Resident Evil 4: Obscurity
by The Lady Frost
Summary: Hopeless, helpless, lost and abandoned. A man on a mission. A thief with a purpose. An unlikely duo on a journey to save the president's pride and joy. It's my unpopular pair (from the lover of the unpopular ships) bringing another romp in a familiar universe. Filled with action, distraction, and MA rated good times. What will happen? We know the story - sorta. Art:Demonleon3D
1. Beginning

**PROLOGUE: UTOPIA**

* * *

 **"The life where nothing was ever unexpected. Or inconvenient. Or unusual. The life without colour, pain or past."**

 **― Lois Lowry, The Giver**

* * *

 ** _Need._**

It bled red and black. It blistered on the skin and charred the bone. It churned and burned and bestowed the kiss of constant pain.

 _ **Pain.**_

It all hurt. It all hindered. It all left hope abandoned in the sheer magnitude of malicious regret.

It rolled now. It raped across the conscious mind until only a husk remained. It hollowed out the flesh and evicted the soul.

 ** _Greed._**

It ate around the edges of the world and left it used and forsaken. It felt like arrows and eternal damnation. It felt like… _him._

It was his mouth. It was his eyes. It was his hands – his fingers on her, in her, around her. Around her. Teeth and touch and tempting promise.

"Wait…" She breathed it. She BIRTHED it. This encompassing need for him.

 ** _Lust._**

She wallowed in it. It burst from her mouth on a gasp as he filled her husk with him.

His hands on her. His mouth on her. His fingers IN her. IN her. He was IN her.

"Oh god…" She gasped it. She grasped it. She opened for it.

She thrilled over the want of it. She killed over the taste of it. She died over the absence of it.

"Please…" She moaned it. She owned it. She begged for it.

It was her utopia. He was her utopia. He was hers.

She swallowed the taste of him. Shimmer – she did it for him now. Shimmered. She'd waited so long for him. They longed. They lasted. They languished.

His fingers IN her. His hands ON her. His grip AROUND her.

Around…she gasped. She bowed.

She fought.

 _ **Fear.**_

It was black and raw. It was big and rich. It was all around them.

She fought. She grabbed. He held on. He wouldn't let go. She tumbled. She stumbled. His body…holding on.

"No…" She grunted it. She mimicked the emotion of herself. A pantomime of who she was without him. Of who she'd be when he was…done.

 _ **Death.**_

It bloomed. It blackened. And he offered it to her now. Faust- awaiting his bargain with the devil. Dante – traversing the nine circles of hell. Brave?

Forsaken. Forbidden. It denied even as it declared for her. She slipped down to her knees.

He kept on holding on. Around her.

 _ **Love.**_

It was the thing that would kill her…and force her into the abyss while she clung to the man who destroyed her.

* * *

 **Three Weeks Prior**

* * *

 **Terragrigia – 2003**

* * *

 **USSTRATCOM CENTRAL DIVISION HEADQUARTERS – HEIDENBURG BUILDING**

* * *

The wheels of fate are a random thing. As they turn, they take down any who stand in their way. They are merciless, often cruel, and exacting. They can be turned, given the right instruction, and often times fought against, given the right warrior, but little can be done to divert the inevitable inception of ones greatest destination.

For one such tired soul, fate had been turning those wheels over the top of him, like a jackknifing sixteen wheeler full of piss and shit and gasoline, for about as long as he could remember. The last time they'd turned toward something pleasant? He couldn't even remember.

The putrescent quagmire of his inevitable self imposed isolation was often the only thing that could be relied upon on any given day. Well that…and debriefings. There were always debriefings. And there were always pale faced fuckers with no idea of how to wield a gun let alone survive a mission telling him how he could better do his job.

This particular day was no different. It was just another set of blank faced bureaucrats drumming their fingers and judging him. His arm was draped over the back of the empty chair beside him. Where was the person who'd sat there? Probably outside being drawn and quartered after failing the interrogation.

He didn't fail interrogations. He also, mostly, didn't give a shit if he did either. So, in a way, it made him bulletproof.

"So, what you're telling me…is that you left Jack Krauser on the ground alive?" The nasally whine of another corporate vampire waiting for him to trip up so they could suck his blood and turn him into one of them damned alongside of them.

He sighed, "Yeah. He was alive when I left him there. He was alive and laughing. That was thing about Jack. He liked to laugh. He had a terrible fucking joke about a pickle and princess and a blowjob. I can't remember the specifics of it right this second…but give me a minute."

The room was practically BREATHING around him. He could see all their snide, bored, smug faces watching him. It was never just one person during a debriefing. It was a panel. It was a "conglomerate of his superiors gathered together to evaluate and address any concerns related to proper completion of mission protocol."

It was judge and jury in this goddamn sterile room.

One of their closed down expressions lifted a brow at his sardonic wit. It was, often times, underappreciated. Clearly.

Leon Kennedy was rolling a paperweight in his hand while they studied him. He felt picked apart. He felt x-rayed. He felt like a specimen in a lab. Leon Kennedy: Lab Rat. Because he was. This job he'd been roped into was a shit show. It was run by powers so ugly and dark that it made you dirtier just from being in the same room with them. They "power" behind the President was sinister and so corrupt that he couldn't figure out how they were any better than the dying Umbrella Corporation they'd just finished destroying.

Umbrella, under an indefinite suspension of business decree, had died where it was already exsanguinating. The mess they'd found surrounding Hidalgo had closed the lid on the coffin for the former pharmaceutical giant. Coordinating intel from a raid in Russia had put the final nail in it.

He'd done the fucking job they'd blackmailed him into. Umbrella was finished. He fully expected to be given his walking papers so he could get back to his LIFE.

But they weren't giving him his walking papers. Why would they? They'd spent so much time and money training him. He'd been pushed, prodded, poked and tortured. Taught to take a hit, to break a man, to fight while he was dying. He'd survived like a starving thing in the wilderness for ten days with nothing but a pocket knife and his wits.

He'd killed a man to save himself and stood bathed in his blood in the dying sun. He'd been thrown into training like a kid tossed into the deep end of a shark infested pool and told to swim. FIGHT – yelled the man in white. FIGHT OR DIE.

They'd come against him: the wet behind the ears rookie cop. They'd come up against him like they'd kill him. One by one. It was fucking _Mortal Kombat._ It was him and THE CAGE and the blood. And the rookie cop had died in the heat while the sweat and blood soaked his skin and birthed the weapon they'd trained him to become.

He'd spun on the floor of that filthy fucking jungle like a machine. He'd hacked and slashed and stabbed and survived. He'd come out of the jungle someone else. So, he'd survive Raccoon City. But he hadn't really. Because what hadn't died there had died in the dirty jungle shortly after.

What was left?

The Executioner.

The Iceman.

The Nemesis.

It was always amusing when he heard it whispered amongst the bioterror community. It never failed to make him chuckle. Umbrella had conceived the Nemesis to be an unstoppable monster. Someone had stomped the shit out of it. Celewrly, it was stoppable.

It was often joked that Umbrella had birthed two of them in Raccoon City. The one that had died there at the hands of someone brilliant. And the one that had risen after its fall. Unfortunately for Umbrella, he didn't have an off switch. He had doggedly, determinedly and unrelentingly pursued their demise like the thing they'd programmed to destroy the S.T.A.R.S. that had foiled them.

So he was the Nemesis to those in quiet corners that found his unflagging determination and skill to be inhuman. And it served him in never failing a mission. It also made him invaluable to those puppet masters which he served.

He'd been hoping to be finally, finally, finally able to walk out and find what he was supposed to be after vengeance went cold and he could breathe again.

They weren't giving him his walking papers. They were interrogating him. He'd done this before. He'd sat in that room while they hammered at him.

 _How did you survive Raccoon City?! WHO WAS WITH YOU!? What do you know!?_

He'd given them nothing then. He'd protected Claire. He'd protected Sherry. He'd been a scared kid then. He wasn't that kid anymore. They were wasting their time trying to scare the shit out of him. He'd had the undead try to eat his face. He'd had a man try to carve out his nuts with a piece of glass. He'd stood face to face with things so horrible that he couldn't sleep at night without a light on.

What good does the light do? His mind queried. No good. Nada. It was utterly and completely psychosomatic. He knew that. But it kept the dark away…at least in theory.

They grilled him. They drilled him with questions. They tried to trip him up on what happened. He stuck to his guns, told the truth, and they couldn't do shit to him. They had Manuela. They had everything he knew. Jack Krauser was dead. So they weren't getting anything out of him.

What was left here?

They finally cut him loose after nearly three hours. They told him to sit by his phone. _Be ready for orders, Agent Kennedy._

He stepped out of the sparkling glass skyscraper with his middle finger lifted over his shoulder in farewell. As if he'd sit by his fucking phone and wait for orders. He was in the only aquapolis in the world. He was, literally, in a floating city.

He was taking a minute to do whatever the hell he wanted.

His handsome face was offset with perfectly coifed blonde hair in a shaggy swing around his jaw and beautiful blue eyes the color of graying winter skies. They were currently hidden by the polarized Oakley sunglasses perched on his slightly crooked aquiline nose.

The body suited the face. It was nicely muscled and fit. The striation of it showed in heavy biceps and long, taut forearms. Beneath the shirt, the show was better. It was washboard abs and corrugated muscle from back to breastbone. The open collar of his shirt suggested that the chest beneath its pale countenance was something to see as well with honed pectorals and the smoothness that came with youth and hardcore conditioning.

On his left forearm, at the bend of his elbow, a tiny tattoo showed. It was the latin word _memorari_ in tiny scrawl. It was a reminder to never forget and always be vigilant.

The floating aquapolis was all foamy waves and sky. It was shiny solar panels that powered the isolated world of it and all the beauty that pervaded. The streets were lined with hurrying bodies and looped up the long terrain to little houses that never had to worry about where their power came from. The sun and the salty sea were all it needed to survive.

It was a modern marvel and had taken greater than a decade to construct. Living was limited and consisted mostly of staff for the various government buildings that encompassed the island. Proper permits and petitions had been needed to gain access to available housing. Now it was flush with people and burgeoning life.

Leon padded into the open air bar adjacent to sprawling miles of beach. It was too cool for too many bodies to brave the waves but a few steadfast and stalwart surfers remained in the tossing foam to take on the waves. The beach bar was tiki island chic. It was all pastels and light wood.

The bartender was pretty, young, and tanned in all the right ways. She smiled at him as he claimed a stool. "Heya, handsome. You lookin' for something in particular?"

"Three fingers of Stoli; neat."

The bartender winked at him. He considered her and watched her ass as she moved to extract liquor and pour. A good uncomplicated fuck could be just what he needed. Isn't that what a typical guy in his mid-twenties would do on a sunny day? Pick up a pretty girl and get fucked?

He flirted with her. It was easy enough. He'd always been good at flirting and she was so interested she was practically throwing herself over the bar to mount him where he sat. She said something to make him laugh and he turned a little when a cool breeze tried to blow the napkin with her phone number out of his hands.

Leon grabbed for it, watching it loop and swirl and turn in the wind, and it slid over the cobblestone streets to come to a stop by a bench. He paid for the drink and hurried over to get it. The napkin wiggled and slipped away again, blowing down the street.

He turned back to just get her number again and she was gone. There was a big bearded guy in her place. He most certainly did NOT want his number on a napkin so, instead, Leon hurried after the one that would get him laid.

The napkin made a curly que of whipping in the wind and fell into the fountain in the middle of the town square. It was a bubbling, bustling and beautiful set of mermaids intertwined around an arcing rock. They spilled pretty glistening water from a couple of happily held seashells. They, apparently, didn't care about the damage they were doing to his love life by soaking the napkin that had his booty call written on it.

The face of the FBC building shone down on the fountain. Leon considered it, watching the people that came and went in their suits and ties. He wondered if there was a single one of them worth five minutes of his time.

His luck was for shit lately. He couldn't catch a break. He needed a vacation, a ten minute fuck with a willing woman, and a leprechaun with a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow holding a four leaf clover and a rabbits foot to change his luck. He was a MAGNET for bad luck. Nothing good EVER happened to him.

It was on just such an auspicious moment that everything he thought he knew changed.

He was trying to fish the ruined napkin from the foamy water beneath the secretly judging mermaids when a voice queried, "It can't really by all that important, can it?"

In his defense, he was pretty hard up. But maybe it looked worse than it was. He was clinging to a mermaid with a stick angled into the water, half hanging over the bubbling depths of the water. His tongue was stuck between his teeth as he extended his arm as far as it would go to barely reach the napkin with the tip of the stick. He probably looked pretty stupid. With a roll of his eyes, he realized his face was pressed against the groin of the mermaid he clasped in one arm to keep him from face planting into the fountain.

So, it definitely looked worse than it was.

Amused, Leon quipped, "Depends on how you look at it, I guess."

"Well…it looks like you have your face in a mermaids twat."

Yep. It looked worse than it was.

He finally watched the napkin slip under the edge of a wave of water and disintegrate. Well, he thought with a sigh, so much for his Friday night.

He let go of the mermaid, turned toward the curious voice…and came face to face with a siren. So, he wasn't entirely sure that was better. She wore a simple suit with a pencil skirt and basic pumps. The suit was pinstriped and blue. It was paired with a camisole in lacy white. Her hair was all kinds of curly and dark around her shoulders. The face was plump pink lips and dark sunglasses. It was smooth pale skin and a lifted brow.

The body beneath the ugly suit was, however, not basic. It was slim with big enough tits to make the fourteen year old boy inside the twenty five year old man excited and curvy hips made for holding hands. But it was the legs. In those ugly, cheap pumps – they were killer. Ten feet of leg and pretty, heart shaped ass.

Gorgeous.

He said, "Do mermaids have twats? I've always been curious how mermaids reproduce actually. They appear to be missing pieces. You think they mate like people? Or like fish?"

It would have been ok. Probaly would have been ok. But then? He grinned.

That was it, thought Jill Valentine, that was the attraction. It wasn't the ass…which was…ridiculously perfect in those jeans. It was the grin. It looked just a little sheepish, just a little boyish, and just a little adorable.

So, Jill intoned, drolly, "Exactly how do fish mate?"

And now he looked a little embarrassed. He was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. Did he realize that he stood out amongst the suited monkeys around him like a swan surrounded by chickens? One: he wasn't even bothering to a wear a suit. He was dressed in a three quarter sleeved collared Armani shirt in good eggplant purple, a bold choice that said he had style ingrained in his bones, and a sexy little vest in rich brown leather. The shoulder holster that complimented it held a very big, very shiny Desert Eagle Magnum. The collar of the shirt was left open, the cuffs of the shirt loose, the Diesel jeans he wore over steel toed boots were deconstructed and complimented a look that walked a line between business and dressy. He wore a thigh holster with a side piece and little Oakley sunglasses in polarized orange. Two: he radiated carefully leashed energy like a living thing.

And that adorable little guy quipped, "Dogfish style? You think you can "porca an orca"?" And he did air quotes. He punned..and he did air quotes. And he looked like something you kidnapped, kept in your basement, and raped on a daily basis to try to conceive countless babies off of.

Jill blinked at him.

And then she grinned. How could she not? She was here as an envoy for the BSAA. She was so bored it was insane. And then…here was this guy fishing in the fountain. And her day now looked infinitely better.

But he didn't stop. He added, "We don't need to talk about what kind of mating the hammerhead likes…objectively."

"Oh, you're a funny little thing aren't you?" She tilted her head looking at him.

"So, I've heard. It tends to be less appreciated then it should."

"You might also be the dumbest person, I've ever met. Sharks and whales aren't fish. So, your alliteration is for shit…clearly."

Oh, that sexy little grin of his. It was something.

He moved toward her and she didn't back away…which pleased them both. He was aware, entirely, that she wasn't really alone standing there. She had a couple suits with her that lingered back a few feet looking a little unsure.

He ignored them completely. Firstly, he didn't give a shit if she had bodyguards around her by the dozen because he was still going to try to touch her. And secondly, he could beat the shit out of every one of the suits behind her. That was arrogance. Yes, it was. It was also training. He knew he could. It was that simple.

He invaded the hell out of her personal space. And the closer he got? The bigger her grin. Cocky little guy, she liked him. It was written all over her face. When he was about two feet away, one of the agents with her moved like he'd intercede.

And Mr. Cocky said, "You think he realizes that he'll never get here in time?"

Jill kept on grinning, "He wouldn't need to. I don't need him to stop you if I wanted to."

Interesting. She was wrong. Leon knew that too looking at her. She was wrong about that. He could take her down too. But the confidence of her statement had him pausing to study her. Maybe he was wrong here. Maybe he was reading her wrong. Maybe she wasn't just some suit.

He stopped looking at her like she was something to eat and started looking at her like she was something that wanted to kill him. The minute he did, he saw what he'd been missing. She had a piece in that narrow suit. It was an inner pants holster that put it at the small of her back under the ugly jacket she wore. There was the slightest lump in the skirt on her right thigh that said she had a knife waiting there. It would be easy enough for her to get it. The slit in the skirt was primed for access.

A hand could slip right up under that slit and grab that weapon…or move three inches to the right and over the heat of her.

Leon stopped walking. And now he tilted his head.

Curious. She was right in one hand. He hadn't seen her as a threat. What was interesting was that he still didn't. She was strapped, she was in good physical shape, she was clearly muscled beneath the suit in a way that said training. And he was too busy thinking about her panties to worry about the knife on her thigh.

It was kinda degrading. Leon Kennedy: defeated by his dumb stick.

She tilted her head, watching him. "Do I have food on my face?"

He grinned, amused, and put out his hand. "I don't know that it would matter if you did. It's a helluva face. I'd probably offer to lick the food off it."

Oh, she liked him. A lot. She grinned, "You had me thinking the same thing."

Taking a chance, he closed the distance and she didn't retreat. She actually offered her hand back to him. They shook hands, "I'm Leon Kennedy."

In that split second the question was answered for him on whether or not she was in the bioterror game. She knew him. It flashed across that gorgeous countenance. She knew his name.

He liked the surprise on her face and the interest. He liked the face and the body that went with it. She spoke again, and he liked the brains too.

"Well somebody left out pieces of the reports I read on you." She put one hand on her hip, shaking her head. And she actually laughed a little.

"How so?"

"It said you were practically a genius," She smirked at him a little, "And yet there you were fishing in the fountain for a napkin…with a stick. When you could have just stepped in the two inches of water in those waterproof boots you're wearing and…bent over to get it."

He blinked. He glanced over his shoulder. And he was kinda embarrassed.

Because she was fucking right.

Humbled, intrigued, and a little sheepish, he drawled, "Yessss. BUT then we wouldn't have met. So, I can't be sorry for being…somewhat dumb. I am, however, incredibly savvy when not thinking out of my ass."

Yep. She liked him.

"It mentioned you were one of the most adaptable agents ever trained. You tested higher than anyone in a decade on situational response and ingenuity."

He knew where this was going. So he just laughed and waited for it.

"Annnnnd yet you were clinging to a mermaid like a girl afraid to get wet instead of just standing…five inches to the right and reaching AROUND the mermaid to get the napkin beneath her."

Yep. He liked her a lot. When was the last time a woman had bothered to give him shit?

"I like doing things the hard way…clearly."

Since he was grinning at her, she went on, "It also said you have a photographic memory."

"That part is true."

"Is it?" She tilted her head, "Then why did you need the napkin? You should have memorized whatever was on it the second you looked at it."

Intrigued, he shifted a little closer to her. Her eyebrows winged up at the nerve of it. But she didn't step back.

"Truth?" He leaned a little down like he was going to tell her a secret.

Jill had a second to step away and then she figured, fuck it, and waited for it.

He put his mouth next to her ear and whispered, "I didn't even look at it. I wasn't interested in the girl who wrote her number on it. I was just looking for an easy lay."

Yep. She liked him. He just threw it out there like it was nothing. It was a pretty shitty thing to admit. And he just lobbed it at her like a grenade.

Jill turned her face and he was right there. She leaned a little toward him and whispered back, "Wanna know a secret?"

He looked at her mouth. "Yep."

"Maybe she was...but I'm not." She smiled at him so very sweetly and said, "So maybe you wanna tone it down a notch or two."

Yep. He liked her. Amused, he laughed and backed up a step.

Jill studied him in the fading sunlight. He was fucking gorgeous. She couldn't see the eyes behind those glasses but she was betting they lived up to the face. But his body language was all kinds of cocky good humor. Usually she detested that kind of thing. On him? It worked like a charm.

She laughed a little and mused, "Well clearly it didn't mention that you're a walking wet dream. Claire said you were handsome. Handsome. What a stupid word. She was just fucking with me, obviously."

Interesting. She didn't just know his name. She didn't just know his file. She _knew_ who he was. Claire. He missed her face. He should call her when he had a minute. They'd become best friends in Raccoon. Now they were both so damn busy they couldn't even find time for a phone call.

But if she knew Claire. Then she wasn't just in the bioterror game. She was from Raccoon City. And the number of survivors from there were so small that they shouldn't have been strangers. In fact, he'd met them all by this point…but one.

This woman? This was Jill Valentine. It couldn't be anyone else.

Leon chuckled, flattered. And she shifted which allowed him to glimpse the top of one lacy thigh high. It went right into his dick and lodged there. Amused, he laughed again, "You must be Jill Valentine."

"So, they tell me."

"How about you ditch these suits, come with me, and I'll show you how dogfish mate."

Oh, he was something. She laughed, delighted. "You mean a bunch of wiggling and flopping? I could just stick my finger in an electrical socket if I was looking for that. It would probably last longer and wouldn't be nearly as messy."

Unoffended, unflappable, he laughed again. "True story there. But the electrical socket won't call you afterward."

Jill tilted her head, "You would?"

"Of course. I'm a gentlemen. I'm also shy though. So, I'd probably just call you, breathe heavy, potentially scare you into thinking you have a stalker…chicken out and then hang up without saying a word. So, there's your Friday night. Bad sex, awkward phone calls, and potential personal discomfort. What'd ya say? Wanna go out with me?"

Interested, Jill studied him. The reports left out lots of things, it seemed. It left out the fact that he probably had the most fabulous ass she'd seen on a secret service agent…ever. It left out the fact that he was ungodly, ridiculously, hilarious. Chris had the best sense of humor she'd ever encountered on a man. They'd ribbed each other since the dawn of time like two frat buddies. But this guy, Kennedy, he had a dorky sense of humor that charmed even as it disarmed and made you want to tickle him to see if he looked as cute as you thought he would when he giggled.

So, she said, "Yep." And watched it bloom on that handsome face like a flower in the sun.

Leon had never been so happy to have lost a booty call in his life. Thank god, he thought, that napkin had blown away in the breeze. Jill tilted her head back again, "You have to let go of my hand though, Leon Kennedy. Or we can't go out."

Well, shit. He didn't just let go, that slippery little shit, he turned and kissed it before he let it go. And he dropped those sunglasses to wink at her. Jill laughed, shaking her head. "Does that shit actually work on girls?"

"Oh, it's got a ninety percent success rate." He stepped into line beside her as they crossed the square together. "You don't think I'm charming?"

Laughing, Jill glanced up at him. "Oh, you're charming. And the flirting is pretty evident. I can see how some simpering little thing would be charmed out of her panties by the winking and the kissing and the long, long looks that you throw around."

Jesus, he liked her. There were no games here. This girl just laid it out there. "Yeah?"

"Oh, sure. You know what you're doing. But don't kid yourself. It's not your methods, exactly, that get the girls wet for it." He opened the door to the bar they came to and Jill had to duck under his arm to go inside. She brushed against him as she moved and it made her shake her head and smile again. He knew what he was doing. No lie there.

"No?" They moved to a little table and claimed a couple seats. The inside of the bar was smoky, dark, and lit by television screens showing sports. He sat, threw an ankle over his knee and draped an arm on the table casually. Jill, in the suit, sat more regally.

"No. It's the face. It doesn't hurt that you have a kinda naïve charm that makes you seem like a little boy that doesn't know how he looks. But it's the face." She took off her sunglasses and set them on the table.

He did the same as they ordered a couple drinks and finally looked at each other.


	2. Chapter 1: Obscurity

_+Author's note:_

 _Someone kidnapped the President's daughter (we know who did it) but what if the world's most punny agent didn't have to be alone to find her? This is Resident Evil 4, kinda. Like my other story is 6, kinda. Could be great. Might be utter crap. This is always the risk of my stuff. I stole a little part in Absolution to set up the first time they meet. But there is no relation between stories at all. I just liked that dynamic between them there. I always see them as playful and flirty and fun. Which, hopefully, comes across here well. I try to dangle in the darkness, I do. I read it CONSTANTLY. I just end up writing fluff and humor and actiony smut. So that's me. I enjoy playing them with each other because we've never seen it canon wise…so I get to make them however I want._

 _We all know the deal: hate or love it. Let me know._

 _Thank you for reading. Although if no one read it, I'd still be writing. I just wouldn't be thanking anyone. Because no one would care. True story._

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil. All of it is owned by Capcom._

 _Slainte._

* * *

 **PROVIDENCE**

* * *

" **Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible."**

― **Lisa Kleypas, Sugar Daddy**

* * *

Yep, she thought, it was entirely the face. The sunglasses on that face had been something. Without them? He was movie star handsome. She wasn't unaware of the other females in the room looking at him. And he was definitely the best looking thing at their table.

She knew she was a pretty girl. Once the awkwardness of puberty had abated, she'd gone from a skinny little stick to a curvy girl that had struggled with her weight in highschool. She'd ballooned up and gotten pretty chubby before deciding to enlist in the military. Being in Delta had forced her to focus on conditioning her body. Now if she didn't work at it, she tended to pack on the pounds in her butt and hips.

She was just betting he didn't. He probably didn't have an ounce of fat on his damn body. And she was betting he'd always been that way. Part good genes, part dumb luck. She glanced over his shoulder to a group of girls at the table behind him. Giggle, giggle, giggle and whisper.

She was betting that was the Leon Kennedy special.

The thing about him? He didn't notice. Or he didn't care. He was looking right at her. He wasn't looking away. He wasn't even interested in giggling girls behind him.

THAT was the clencher. Here was this guy who looked like that and he wasn't looking anywhere else. He was looking right at you like you might know where Jimmy Hoffa was buried or what happened to the Lost Isle of Roanoke or who really shot Kennedy (or course maybe he did know since he WAS a Kennedy). Leon Kennedy looked right at you while you talked like everything you said was exciting and interesting. He had this sexy little mouth tilt that was one half little boy adorable, one half sex on a stick. He draped an arm over the back of the chair beside him and managed to look relaxed.

She swirled her drink in her glass and watched him. He surprised the shit out of her and pulled a pack of cigarettes out to light up. A smoker? Curious. She could usually tell.

With a smirk, she took the one he offered her. "These will kill you, you know."

And then? That sneaky little shit said, "I tend to be drawn to things that can kill me."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. I like dangerous things. Fast things. Deadly things. I like putting my hands all over them."

Boom. He watched it slide over her face. Wait for it, he mused, and took a drag on the cigarette.

She stared him down…annnnnd then she rolled her bottom lip into her mouth and laughed. It was breathy. Yep, he thought, boom.

Well, shit. She shifted in her chair. And they didn't bother to look away from each other. "Mmm. Not afraid to die?"

Leon took a drag on the smoke and considered the mood. And then he figured, fuck it, and went all in. "Only live once, right? I've been on the wrong end of the edge of death plenty. Could be dead tomorrow. Can't really sit around worrying about it. Only thing I can do is decide what's worth dying for."

She tilted her head, watching him in the inky smoke. "The rush worth dying for?"

He glanced at her mouth and watched her do the same. Yep. Boom. "Only thing that is."

"I tend to agree."

He watched her face and knocked the ash off his smoke into the tray in front of him. "I'd like to slide my hand up your thigh and see what kind of knife you're packing there. I'm gonna bet it's one of those deadly things we're talking about."

Shit. She liked him. And that direct gaze. And the feeling her belly looking at him. And the idea of him running his hand up her thigh. So, she grinned a little and laughed. "It is. But not nearly as deadly as the thigh its attached to."

He didn't grin. But those eyes of him? They were all kinds of heavy want. An interesting thing to see it on him. Usually you had to be buck naked and sweaty to get a guy to look at you like that. Like he was about to make you come screaming his name.

And he said, "I have no doubt. Those legs of your started killing me the minute we met. Want to ditch this fucking place and finish the job?"

Oh, she kinda loved him. She laughed again and smirked at him. She didn't say yes. She didn't say no either. Instead? She ordered another drink and took off her suit jacket.

It was harmless and good fun. They were never really alone. And the bodyguards that had lingered around her joined them as the night wore on. Clearly these were all men she trusted and had friendships with.

The suit she wore had been eased back when it lost the jacket and left her in a silky little white camisole over the pinstriped skirt. They played a few rousing hands of poker that she murdered him in. And he was fucking aces at poker. She obliterated all of them. She was up six hundred bucks at one point.

With a cigarette struck, he watched her while she joked easily with the men around her. She didn't dwarf, she didn't get uptight. She was a guy with tits, fun, and fascinating. That was her power, hands down, that was it. She didn't woo you with sweet little looks and giggles; she drop kicked you in the heart with a spinning side kick.

Jill Valentine: ball breaker.

He discovered a few things about her. One: she could drink any man he'd ever met under the table. And did so with gusto, putting a few other people in group to shame. Two: she was as ballsy as a man with her opinions and had the filthy mouth of a sailor.

She also had no qualms about putting a man on his ass if he went too far. A handsy prospective suiter that couldn't take the hint as the evening wore on finally crossed the line far enough to try to cop a feel when she went to the bar to get another round of drinks. Leon watched her reject the guy from the other side of the room.

Jill laughed at something he said. The guy leaned in and put his hand on her ass. That was it. She was done. She grabbed that wrist, rolled it, stepped into the ballsy fellow and whispered something to him an inch from his face. He went so pale that Leon the poor guy might vomit. Jill smiled, gave one final twist on that wrist, and shoved him gently away.

He did NOT follow her back to the table.

She set down the tray of drinks and caught Leon looking at her. Curious, she cocked her head. "What?"

"You just scared the piss out of that guy."

"Yeah? He'll think twice about putting his hand on a girl's ass in the future, I promise you. If I'd been one of those giggling girls giving you googoo eyes back there, he probably would have rufied me and gotten away with it. I did the girl world a favor. Guys like that don't take no for answer unless you force feed fit to them."

She claimed her seat again. Leon was still looking at her. She liked the looking. The look was different now. It wasn't just sex. That was in there, sure, and she liked that a lot. But it wasn't just that. It was that fine edge of interest and respect that did it. He didn't just want her…he liked her. And it showed.

Jill teased, "Strong women flip your switch, hot stuff?"

And he answered, "Like a hand around my dick, sweetheart. I got hard just watching you kick that guy to the curb."

Oh, she liked him. She liked him a lot. It was getting worse as the night wore on. She was about to find out how easy she was. Because she was thinking of taking him home with her. She was betting that cocky mouth tasted like cigarettes, scotch, and need. She was betting it would leave her breathless and throbbing. It kinda was already.

"Like it rough, do ya?" Teasing. But it was a little breathy.

He arched a brow at her.

And then? Under the table, the brief slide of one finger along the tiny bit of exposed skin on her thigh. She actually jumped from it and knocked her knee on the table for the effort.

His face was inscrutable. His face was amused. And he replied, "Like you wouldn't believe."

Fuck. She wanted him to touch her again. It was a good feeling.

Jill tossed back another shot of whiskey and eyeballed him across the table, twirling a little eating dagger in her hand playfully. The way she did spoke volumes about her skill with that knife. No slouch, he knew she was hell on wheels in hand to hand combat.

Her eyes were very blue, perfectly outlined by tasteful black eyeliner, and set above a mouth that knew exactly how to rile a man up and also shut his ass down when it suited her. She cut right through the shit of polite conversation. "They call you the nemesis."

She took the cigarette from his hands and took a long drag, watching him through a haze of inky smoke. He watched her mouth and made her shift in her seat for him. Damn him, those girls behind him were so desperate for his attention. And that? It was all on her.

Leon shrugged, sipping his scotch. "They call you the surgeon."

Curious, Jill tilted her head at him. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning you cut out people's hearts for a living."

Jill laughed, highly amused. She nodded, "I think I like that. I tell you, you kill one person by cutting open their chest, and it haunts you forever."

"Stuff like that tends to, yeah."

"They say you killed a hundred men on an island in south American."

"They say you castrated a hundred in Raccoon City."

She twirled the knife in her hand, a little in love with him. "They say you talk out your ass and stick your foot in your mouth."

"They say you cut off a man's foot once and stuck it in his mouth."

"They say you are eunuch. That you never touch women."

"They say any man that touches you loses a hand."

Her grin was wolfish and happy. His was merely a smirk.

"They say you're gay. And only fuck men."

"They say you only fuck Chris Redfield."

Ah. He watched that arrow home. She grinned wider. "They lie."

"Yeah, they do. You fucking Chris Redfield?"

Jill Valentine laughed, delighted with him. "Why? You want him for yourself?"

His eyes flashed, impressed. "Not him. You? I'm thinkin about it."

Jill laughed again, loving the flirting. She offered her hand to him. "Show me what you got, Special Agent Kennedy."

He gave it to her. She pulled it close to her, kept her eyes on his, and shoved it down on the table. The fingers spread, wide open. He didn't flinch, not once, as she drove that little eating dagger between his fingers in a repetitive, continuous, mutinously fast rhythm. She never looked at the dagger, at the movement; she just looked at him. Him? He didn't do anything but lift that cigarette to his mouth and draw a long drag.

And, yeah, she watched his mouth the whole time.

She leaned a little closer to him until their noses were inches apart. "They don't lie about everything. You don't react like a normal man, do you?"

Leon felt the grin spread over his lips, he glanced at her mouth and back at her eyes, "I do sometimes. I like to play with dangerous things. And I like for them to play with me too. If the rush is big enough...it's worth losing a finger to feel it."

Shit. It shivered over her and warmed her belly.

He angled that smirking mouth to her, just a fraction, just enough she knew he'd let her lean in and kiss him. She wondered what Ramirez, Bruster, and Yazz would say if she did it. They'd run back to Chris whooping and hollering about her sucking face in a bar with Leon Kennedy. She'd never live it down.

She liked to play with dangerous things too. Damn him.

She let go of his hand and leaned back in her chair. "I think I'm going to like you, Leon Kennedy."

"I tend to have that effect on women."

Amused, she twirled that little knife in her hand and shifted. He watched her strap it back to that tantalizing thigh and envied it. He was envious of a knife. It was just that kind of day.

Jill rose from the table, no woozy stumbling, no burping, no indication whatsoever that she'd had eight shots of whiskey in a short space of time. She didn't even stumble. She dropped money on the table and leaned over him. She smelled like smoke and sin. He could, almost, see down that camisole she was wearing. She put her mouth against his ear and said, softly, "Those girls over there? They're waiting for you, Agent Kennedy. It was nice meeting you. Thanks for the cab fare."

She'd paid the check for all of them, with her poker winnings of course, and slipped the rest in that cleavage that he wanted to bury his face in. And then she poked a twenty dollar bill in his empty scotch glass and said, "Don't drink and drive. I know you like to live dangerously but there's a difference between dangerous and stupid. Get yourself a girl and take a cab home on me."

He turned his head and their faces were, maybe, an inch apart. When he spoke, their mouths actually brushed, "Not interested in any girl in here but you. The nights young, Jill Valentine. You runnin away?"

She actually shifted enough to rub the tips of their noses together. "Maybe. A little thing you should know about me? I run when I get bored."

"Yeah?" He shifted, holding her eyes, and that finger of his…it traced the line of her thigh above her thigh high, just a teeny bit. He watched it thrill her. He watched her shiver, just a little, just a tremble. "Are you bored? I bet I can change that. Have another drink, Jill. We'll play darts."

She lifted a brow. She rubbed their noses together again. She watched it echo on his face. Jesus, this was dangerous. She liked it.

"You'd lose. I'm better at darts than I am at poker."

"Yeah? You always hit the bullseye?"

"Every time. I never miss."

"Stick around and prove it. Or come with me and we'll see if I can hit yours instead."

"I'm not an easy lay, Leon Kennedy. You want me? Come earn me."

His eyes dropped to her mouth. They were whispering. They were whispering in a bar. It was insane. He wanted to grab the back of her thighs and spill her onto his lap. The image of doing that and pulling her panties to the side to thrust into her waiting body was visceral. He could actually FEEL her on his dick. It was lightning in the blood.

He shifted like he'd touch her and she leaned back. He might not have thought much of it, might even have written it all off like a game of flirting that had pleased them both. But her nipples were pressed tight against that little camisole.

A dangerous game.

Game or not, she wanted him. She'd probably have let him tug her down on his lap. The lightning in his blood was full of thunder now. It was a storm. SHE was a storm. A hurricane of sex and temptation. He was not, ordinarily, a man given to riding the lightning. He joked. He flirted. He didn't really partake.

Hell, he'd been so busy since Raccoon City, the only real temptation he'd been resisting was a fifth of whiskey and a dark room where he slept for a hundred years. The nightmares chased him most nights anyway. So, he took the edge off with scotch, cigarettes, and his right hand and when that failed? A willing waitress or a flirty bartender did the trick. He rarely chased a woman like Jill Valentine. She flashed signs all around her that said: Complicated. He usually avoided her type like the plague.

He watched her stop at the bar and say goodbye to the crew she was running with. He watched her tip the bartender and toss that curly hair. She crossed the bar in those cheap pumps and she didn't roll her hips, she didn't sway, she didn't even try to get you to look at her. You just did. Because she was enigmatic. Because she wasn't even trying to be. The ungettable get. The mystery of the perpetual thing you coveted that you could never really have.

The girl next door pretty face was something to see, no lie. But it wasn't what kept you looking. It was what happened when that pretty face opened its mouth. She was a siren. He was right about that.

She didn't even look back as she left the bar. Damn her.

He took a long drag on his cigarette and kept on staring at her suit jacket, dangling on the back of her forgotten chair. The little giggling girls at the table were getting the courage to come take a run at him. He could see them in the mirror behind the bar.

He could take the prettiest one home. Hell, they'd probably double team him at this point. What kinda guy said no to a three way with two pretty college girls on spring break?

He snatched the suit jacket off the chair and rose. Apparently, _he_ was that kinda guy.

Leon hurried out into the street, holding her jacket in his hands. He did a little spin, searching for her amongst the people that were bar hopping and enjoying the pretty weather. The evening was cool and the breeze off the ocean brought the scent of rain and salt.

He crossed the street, the jacket gripped in one hand. There were lots of suits on the cobblestone walkway. There were lots of pinstripes. There was no Jill Valentine.

He'd waited too long. She'd likely taken that cab and gone home.

Leon turned to do the same. He signaled a cab and climbed into the back. He tossed the suit jacket over into the seat beside him…and a card key slid out of the pocket. It plopped onto the floor. It was for the same hotel where he was staying.

He laughed a little and gave the cabbie the name of the hotel.

Leon crossed the lobby of the big hotel holding her jacket. He rode the elevator up to the third floor and stepped off. Six doors down, a man and a woman were in the hallway keying into their room. There was a lot of heavy petting and laughing.

Clearly, somebody was getting laid tonight.

It just wasn't him.

Amused, Leon keyed himself into his room and hung up her jacket on the peg beside the door. In the semi-darkness, he crossed the enormous suite to the balcony. He tossed his vest on the bed as he went. He palmed his cigarettes as he moved and emerged into the salty night to listen to the bar down the street filling the sky with terrible karaoke.

He struck up the smoke and turned to look down the waterline.

And there was Jill Valentine.

She was sitting on the beach with her feet in the sand. He watched her from the third floor balcony of his room while thunder rumbled somewhere over the ocean. He could see the lightning streak and split the sky amongst the turbulent clouds. The frothy toss of the waves teased along the shimmering sand. The moonlight made it all gilded in silver and sighs.

He flicked the cigarette and leaned on the railing, watching her. Her curly hair shivered in the wind. She lifted her hands and rubbed at her arms. She'd left her jacket. She had to know he had it.

Was she hoping he'd come after her?

She rose in the sand and picked up her pumps from beside her. She turned, thunder rumbled, and she lifted her eyes. Yeah, he thought, here I am. And she zeroed in on him. Just like that.

Jill froze…and then she smiled and shook her head.

He dropped the cigarette and turned back into his room. He shed his boots and grabbed her jacket off the peg by the door. Bare foot now, he padded back to the balcony. He looked down and found the beach empty.

Slippery little thing that she was. Always running away.

He tossed the suit jacket over the railing and leaned on it, watching the storm boil over the sea and drive the last few stragglers in toward the buildings. The rain finally broke and spilled wet and murderous down on the waiting world. It peppered the roof of the balcony where he stood.

Gripping the jacket, he turned back from watching the water and the sky battle for control of the world that was trapped within its epic hold.

And Jill Valentine was standing in the doorway of his room.

He hadn't heard her. Not a peep. Not a sound. She was a shadow. And he'd heard that too. She was the knife in the dark. She was the quiet kiss to Chris Redfield's savage slap. She was something.

The chilly breeze caught that unbuttoned shirt of his and sent it whipping around his body. Jesus, she thought, she'd been right. The body under the shirt was ridiculous.

He lifted the jacket toward her. He didn't ask her how she'd gotten into his room. What did they call her?

The master of unlocking. It was a running joke of a name. But it was true. There was no door that stood between Jill Valentine and what she wanted.

Apparently, including his.

She moved forward and gripped the jacket. Her hand passed over his on the cheap cloth. She stepped into him and his free hand lifted to grip her arm above the elbow.

Her free hand slid over his chest and settled at the base of his collarbone. His heart? It was hammering behind his breastbone. Hers? It was slamming behind her breasts.

She just…wanted to feel him for a minute. Just a minute.

He didn't grope. He didn't grab. She turned her body and pressed her flushed breasts into him…and hated her bra and camisole that stood in the way. His nose aligned beside hers. It bumped. It brushed. She tilted her head back to the questing touch of it.

They brushed lips. Just brushing. No kissing. No grabbing. Just that wonderful brushing.

Lightning flickered around them. The sound of the rain was soft and soothing. A smooth glide of nose and mouth. A tempting touch. She shivered against him, her nails raked – so so gently – over his collarbone. He kneaded the arm he held. And those lips? They just kept brushing over each other.

She pressed into him, just a little, and rubbed. She rubbed her chest against his. The turgid little points of her nipples raked through cloth and over him. He actually shuddered against her as his breath fell out in a heavy sigh. His hand slid down and over her ass in that skirt she wore. And she didn't grab his wrist. She didn't hurt him.

She made a small moan and brushed her mouth to his again. Her hand on his chest slid down his stomach, feeling each muscle and ridge, and skimmed…just once…over the needy length of him in his jeans. His skin sprang with goosebumps. He was desperately afraid he was starting to crave her. She'd barely touched him.

She was a storm in his blood. There was a storm beyond the balcony. It slapped and smashed at the world with jagged rushes of rain and lightning. It echoed in his blood for her.

He wasn't a man who liked to ride the lightning.

But he wanted to ride hers.

He murmured her name against her mouth and angled his head to kiss her.

Jill gripped the jacket and stepped back. She didn't say a word. She traced his belly, she skimmed her fingers over one of his nipples, she gripped a handful of his hair and angled his face to her. And she rubbed her mouth over his like a cat scent marking.

She wanted to slide her hand down into his pants and grab that ass that had been haunting her since she'd met him. She didn't. She licked his mouth.

Jesus. He ached for her.

She stepped away from him. She shook her head.

She just turned and walked away.

His room door shut quietly as she left.

He lifted his hand to rub at his sternum.

They called her the surgeon.

They said she could carve out a man's heart without lifting a hand.

They were right.

His was gone.

She'd taken it with her when she left.

On the nightstand by the bed…his phone began to ring. There was no time to mourn the loss of it. And there was no more time to stand in the dark and hunger for a chance to ride the lightning that was Jill Valentine.


	3. OB2

_A/N: So, here we head into the first chapter of the actual game. It's fun to write. Naturally. And it's going to loosely tackle 4 with a flair for humor and blood and guts._

 _Thanks for reviewing and reading!_

 _Keeps me writing!_

 _Slainte._

… _._

* * *

 **II: OBSCURITY**

* * *

" _ **If I could I would always work in silence and obscurity, and let my efforts be known by their results."**_

― _**Emily Brontë**_

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain – 2004**

 **Central Police Department – International Communication Division**

* * *

It was never a good idea to be the international government agent looking for help in a foreign land. It wasn't. It was painful and awful. It was usually met with disdain and distrust. And a good deal of discomfort for all parties involved. It involved a lot of red tape and hoop jumping. It involved waiting for one hand to wipe the other in terms of government agencies. But it also meant you got to spend your Thanksgiving, not with family, but in the middle of a rural forest with two guys in a jalopy headed toward answers about the President's missing pride and joy. The first Daughter was M.I.A. and they were beginning to suspect kidnapping. Politically, it made no sense. There was nothing that intel could turn up that said there was a power play happening here in the middle of nowhere.

In this particular case, our hero found himself being escorted through the rural dredges of eastern Spain by two very irritated police officers who, clearly, thought they were better served using their skills elsewhere. Leon couldn't blame them. This was, without a doubt, a total pain in the ass assignment. For everyone involved.

The little jalopy carrying him and his erstwhile companions rolled to a stop at the end of a narrow bridge. The driver, a sallow faced man who resembled a ferret in countenance, turned back to grin with crooked teeth at him. In a heavy Spanish accent, he intoned, "This ees it for you, cowboy. We'll wait here for you."

Leon glanced over the rickety bridge toward the village. He lifted a brow. "You sure you don't want to come along? Sitting in the car in the middle of a rural forest in the middle of nowhere? That's the start of a bad slasher flick."

The officer laughed and shook his head at him. "Don't you worry about us. You? You have your trouble up ahead yes? Small villages don't often take to….outsiders."

Awesome. So he was outnumbered and up against angry locals. Super. He might as well just give up and go home.

With a sigh, Leon slipped from the back of the jalopy and pulled his communicator from his pocket. It made a crackle of noise and showed the face of his contact in the Field Security Operations (FSO) office: Ingrid Hunnigan. "Agent Kennedy, I see you've arrived on schedule. Thank you for being punctual."

Amused, Leon studied her pretty face. She was smooth coppery skin and sleek dark hair in a no nonsense bun. The little glasses perched on her nose were adorable and made the face. "No problem. Subjects name is Ashley Graham right?"

"That's correct. She's the newly elected President's daughter. She was on a holiday in Paris with family. She went missing, somehow, even under protective detail. At first, the friend admitted they'd slipped their guards to go out with some boys. But she went to get some beers and came back to find Ashley missing. She swears Ashley wouldn't just run away. Intelligence found traces of her in Spain. And a further tap into the underbelly there shows us that she was likely kidnapped. We don't know who and we don't know why. But the area doesn't seem ripe for a political takeover. So, speculation is limited at this point."

Leon nodded, crossing the narrow bridge and listening to it groan and protest beneath his weight. "Gotcha. I'll check out the local flair and start asking questions. Hopefully we're just dealing with a girl that got bored and ran away."

"It never hurts to hope. Keep your head down, Leon. Let's try not to make too big of a wave there. Insinuating a kidnapping when there might not be one won't reflect well on a new President."

"Roger. I'll be good. Kennedy, out."

At the far side of the bridge, Leon paused to scan the terrain. It was fall leaves in varying shades of gold and orange and red. It was endless trees over the long, long horizon of forest and uneven craggy mountain. It was small little houses that could be seen in the line of trees with chimneys pumping heat into the cold, clear air.

He struck up a cigarette and stood for a moment, looking at the face of the girl in the picture he carried. She wasn't exactly pretty. She had the President's awkward ears sticking off a crop of blonde hair and big blue eyes. Her long thin face was matched with a stingy little mouth and a pert nose. It wasn't her fault, logically, that he was spending his Thanksgiving here hunting her down. It wasn't. Or maybe it was.

This mission? It was punishment. He knew it. It was punishment for his last run in with command. He'd told them to sit and spin when they'd suggested he submit for psychological testing following a suspect apprehension that had resulted in the other man dead. He didn't need testing. He needed to come up against subjects NOT carrying AK-47s in hostile terrain. They'd run, Leon had chased them, and the ensuing fight had cost Leon some blood and the other man his life.

It was unfortunate. It was the job. And it HAPPENED sometimes.

But command didn't care. So, they'd stuck him on a desk pending an investigation and made him file paperwork. He'd played desk jockey and wanted to poke himself in the eye with a stick to get some relief. When this shit detail had popped up, he'd been happy to take it. Even though he knew it was just to get him out of the way.

He was fairly sure his father had pulled some strings here to get him assigned to the President's side. That was fine. He had no problem doing search and rescue. It was better than suspect apprehension. He'd be escorting a twenty year old girl and not fighting with hostiles. So, it was better. If a bit boring.

He'd come strapped, of course, he never went anywhere without packing. But it was unlikely he'd have to draw down here. The locals might not like him but he wasn't likely to need to shoot any of them for a search and rescue mission. He was probably going to find Ashley Graham in bed with some Spaniard trying to avoid her Daddy's powerful reach. The worst he'd have to deal with would be a weeping coed pissed off about her Daddy being the most powerful man in the western world.

Chic drama didn't need a gun….most of the time.

He shifted the photo in his hand and tucked it back in his jacket. The jacket was good brown leather, the kind that holds up for years and feels like butter beneath the stroking hand, it was lined for winter with Sherpa and felt like clouds of warmth on his skin. He wore moisture wicking black beneath it and fatigues to match. The jacket was left open enough for him to reach inside and draw down from his shoulder holster. He had a spare piece holstered on his thigh and a combat knife hooked to his belt.

His black boots, steel toed and waterproof, were crunching along the dead and dying leaves as he moved through the forest that was preparing to head toward winter hibernation. The feel of shifting seasons and the end of fall hung thick and cool around him as he moved. It was a good day for football and pumpkin pie and turkey. Sadly, he'd had bad black coffee and a stale muffin before he'd left the police station that morning.

No turkey and cranberries and stuffing for Leon S. Kennedy.

It was a sad day.

A dilapidated porch hung off the first house he came to. It was a two-story farmhouse with peeling paint and rotting gutters. The siding had started to peel and crack and the brick was faded and charred in places from the chimney. The cloudy gray sky shone down on a roof that was in desperate need of being shingled and he could hear the sound of a mooing cow somewhere in the distance.

Cows.

He was in rural Spain on Thanksgiving about to deal with cows.

It was a sad day.

The door was open. So, Leon called into the open frame, "Hello? Anybody home?"

He knocked and poked his head in, glancing around. There was no one and nothing inside but some peeling blue wallpaper and the smell of a fire. The crackling and snapping of wood lured Leon into a dining room complete with a chipped and scarred wood table and chairs. A staircase wound off to one side, inviting the viewer to the second floor. The main room was sparse, with a rocking chair and an old braided rug in fading red, but clean. There was a man tending the fire with a wrought iron poker.

The snap of the wood hungrily devoured the fresh piece he added, jiggling the remainders with the poker to ignite the embers beneath.

Leon was ITCHING to pull his pistol. He didn't even know WHY honestly. There was no threat here. Just a guy enjoying a fire on a cold day. No threat. But the hair on the back of his neck stood up anyway. Instinct? Or paranoia?

He pulled the picture from his pocket, "Excuse me? Sir?"

Ignored, Leon tapped his foot a little. With a sigh, he stepped up beside the man at the fire. The craggy-faced gentlemen turned an irritated expression to him. His graying beard surrounded crooked and yellowed teeth. It seemed unlikely that oral hygiene was all that important in the rural outposts of the country. When they were cultivating crops and animals for slaughter, he doubted they worried about whitening their grills.

"Sir? I'm sorry to bother you and I'll get out of your way in a second here. But I'm looking for this girl. Have you seen her?" Leon offered the picture. The man glanced at it, looked back at his face and cursed at him.

The Spanish he cursed was heavily slanged. The dialect was butchered and rough. Leon, fluent in Spanish, still only caught about three words of it: Get out, bastard. That was mixed in there. There might have been something about cutting out his heart as well.

Slightly overkill based on the situation. But maybe rural farmers didn't like American's up in their business. Or maybe? This guy knew more then he wanted to share.

Leon scoffed a little and returned, mockingly, "Sorry I asked, man. Shit."

He turned to leave and the world skewed sideways. The poker swung at his head, swiped with a metallic whoosh, and missed him as he rolled away. A split second but it explained the feeling on the back of his neck. Not paranoia. Instinct.

As he rolled, Leon ripped his pistol from his thigh holster and gained his feet in a fluid motion. He aimed down his arm at the advancing farmer in his dirty vest and shirt. "Buddy, don't do it. Freeze!"

Nope. He kept on coming. He hefted the poker and had spittle dripping down his beard. He looked insane. He looked hungry. And he looked like the type of guy who killed you and kept your corpse in a room to pick off pieces to cook and eat. Texas Chainsaw shit.

Leon tried again, "I said freeze, you idiot! Take another step and I will put you down."

The farmer grinned, like a madman, and lifted the poker over his head. And then? Did he freeze? Nope. He charged right at Leon with the poker over his head like a sword about to strike.

Leon drilled him, just once, right between the eyes. The gun bucked, it was loud in the quiet morning. The body was thrown back and skidded over the floor to smack into the table. The table shuddered from the assault.

And the quiet morning returned.

Leon shook his head and touched his communicator. He kicked the body with his boot to be sure it was dead and said, "Hunnigan?"

"Leon? What's up?"

"I encountered a local. He turned hostile so I had to neutralize him."

"….didn't I say NOT to make waves there?"

"Sorry. But seriously, the guy just fucking freaked out on me. I think somethings happening here, Hunnigan. I think this guy knew something about Ashley Graham. He just tried to kill me to protect it."

Hunnigan was silent on her end. Finally, she said, "Take all necessary measures to secure the subject."

"Roger. Kennedy, out."

He clicked off the communicator and heard the coughing wheeze of an engine firing up. Curious, Leon stepped to the window beside him and glanced out. There was a big, old farm truck being revved a little down the lane where he'd come from. Three men hopped in the back. They were holding pitch forks and shovels. They were shouting to each other in Spanish. He could pick out pieces again: Bastard. Intruder. Traitor. And heart. They kept yelling about, he was sure of it now, cutting out his heart.

"…Jesus Christ, man. What the fuck?" Muttering, Leon turned and hurried up the stairs beside him. On the top floor, a low lying roof had him ducking a little as he determined there wasn't much here but a chair with a book, a window, and shotgun.

There was an old double barrel shotgun just sitting on the floor beside the dusty blue chair. Leon snatched it up, cracked the barrel, and found it loaded. "Awesome."

He was no longer alone. The room where he'd come from was full of men. They were shouting and calling to each other. Leon figured there were at least six of them down there.

It wasn't good odds.

Turning, he glanced at the window. It was only two stories. He could take the fall. He'd trained for it. And he was NOT going back down the stairs to be impaled by inbred farmers with pitchforks. No thank you.

Leon backed up three paces and ran at the window. He tucked his body, hit the brittle glass, and burst out the other side. It shattered, tinkling in a shower around him as he fell. He rolled when the hit the ground, absorbing the impact through his back and hips. It stole the breath and hurt, no lie there, but he was fine.

Getting to his feet, Leon hurried toward the narrow path toward the village. He kept his pistol in his hands as he moved. He wasn't going to make it though, it seemed, as three men emerged from the house after him.

Turning, he put down the first two with clean shots to the face. The third grabbed for him, he felt the skim of fingers on his face, and Leon gave him an elbow in the face for his efforts. As he reeled back, Leon spun a side kick into his chest and followed it up with a round to the face that put the man on his ass in the dying fall leaves.

Three more of them were coming. One ran like an Olympic javelin thrower. He cut loose the hatchet in his hands like he'd win the gold. It flipped, Leon dropped, and the hatchet cleared the air a quarter inch from where his head had been. From the couch, he shot the hatchet man in the chest and watched him go down in a burst of blood.

The second man made a grab for him. Leon threw his leg out and foot swept him to the ground. As the man went down, he was finished off with a shot to the back of the head. Holstering the pistol, Leon gripped the pitchfork on the ground and rose.

The final man made a mad, stupid, desperate rush for him. He got himself run through for the effort. Leon shoved as the man grabbed and spitted him on the tines of the pitchfork with a grunt. The man was pinned to the tree behind him now and gasping, bleeding, and STILL trying to kill him.

Leon studied him, breathing heavy in the cold air. It gusted out of his lungs in a white puff of breath. He said, "Where is the girl?"

And the dying man on the tree laughed. He laughed. His eyes had bled red around the pupil. They were red and bloodshot and agonized. Leon tilted his head, like a curious dog, and volleyed his eyes over that desperate…hungry…face.

Hungry.

He touched his communicator, "Hunnigan?"

"Leon? Everything ok?"

"Not exactly. The locals are trying to make me dinner and that's not a euphemism. They want to gut me and serve me with paella. Can you get me any information on potential outbreaks or viral threats that might have occurred anywhere in the region?"

Interested, Hunnigan answered, "Of course. Is it viral?"

"Can't say yet. But this guy dying here with me isn't entirely human. Not anymore."

"I'll get you what I can. Keep me updated."

"You bet."

Leon stepped forward again. He tried the command in Spanish. " _Donde esta la niña?"_

The man coughed, spewing blood all over his front. He cursed again in Spanish. And then? He whispered, "….Lord Saddler…"

And he died. His eyes fixed and dilated and stared.

Leon touched his communicator, "You hear that?"

"I did." Said Hunnigan, "I'm on it."

"Good. I'm gonna go radio silent while I move here. I don't need the extra possibility of feedback alerting them."

"Sounds good. Be careful."

Leon moved down the path and picked his way through the trees. He strayed a little into the woods to avoid being on the direct walkway. There was a sound behind him that drew his attention. It was a whining yelp.

Curious, he picked his way toward the noise. There was a bear trap snapped shut on the leg of a struggling white…wolf? Leon stopped, hesitated, and thought about turning back. But the wolf barked weakly at him and he just…couldn't. So, at the risk of losing his hand or throat, he still eased forward to help the poor thing.

"Don't eat me. Ok?"

It looked at him with eyes glassy with pain. It may, also, have been judging him a coward…a little bit.

Leon knelt and grasped the rusty trap between the jagged teeth. He pried it open and the wolf yelped and pulled its bloody leg free. It backed up from him, eyeing him wisely. Leon let the trap snap closed again and stared back.

They were nose to nose in the cool fall air.

Finally, it…licked his face. It brushed its wet tongue up his cheek and then it barked and escaped at a run through the trees.

Amused, Leon rose from the ground and wiped his face.

He continued on toward the village, careful to avoid direct contact with the main path. The way was clear now and finally ended in a gate that was open and inviting. He stepped through and heard the sounds of the village that waited beyond the rise.

Stepping into the trees, Leon tugged out his binoculars to scan in toward the center of the tiny village. The whole thing was maybe ten houses and a church. The church had a steeple with a big bell that was likely to signal evening and morning mass. There was a bonfire happening in the middle of the town square.

It crackled and popped and licked the sky above it with tongues of flame and curls of smoke. He could smell the distinct scent of cooking sap and pine. His binoculars scanned over…and found the body hanging in the fire. It was spitted through the chest on a big hook like a fish. He zoomed in further.

"Holy shit."

It was one of the dead cops that had brought him. The one who'd been pissing on a tree when he'd left them. Jesus Christ.

He was deader than disco now. His body was roasting there like a hotdog on a campfire. What the fuck was happening here?

Taking the path of least resistance, Leon moved through the back alley of the village behind the narrow row of houses to one side. He kept his Magnum in his hands as he walked. The shotgun on his back bumped as he moved. There was the cluck of chickens as they scattered under his approaching gait.

He had a feeling he needed to get in that church. It was the most likely place that Ashley would be held. It was secure and clearly protected. Although Leon didn't hold out much hope that she was still alive. They'd tried to eat him. He was assuming they'd done the same, or worse, with the President's bumbling baby girl.

He made it a good distance without being spotted. Stealth was his thing after all. And then he crossed by the barn. There was a farmer inside hauling hay. He saw him, froze, and shouted a warning to the rest of the town.

Leon shot him in the face for it and turned. He fled through the barn and into the closest house. Slamming the door, he moved to bar it with the closest piece of furniture. He shoved the dresser nearby in front of it and moved.

No hesitation, Leon went straight up the stairs while the town assembled outside his door. He could hear them PLANNING. He could hear them shouting. He could hear them cursing him. Kill the bastard, they yelled, kill the intruder. Stop the AGENT.

He froze.

The Agent.

They knew he wasn't just some guy. They KNEW he was an agent.

No time to worry about that. Leon hit the top of the stairs and kicked the window beside him. It tinkled and shattered. He stepped through onto the roof top and picked his way carefully across the slick shingles.

Judging the distance, he leaped to the neighboring roof. Behind him, the town was coming through the broken window after him. He could leap to the ground again, but that was worse than where he was. Because there were twenty fucking town members down there waiting for him.

He made a stand, turning to face the ones coming across the roof after him. They weren't graceful. They kept slipping and sliding. He shot the first one in the knee. It went down and tripped up two more behind it. They all scrambled and slid and fell down.

In tandem, they slid off the slanted roof and hit the ground beneath with grunts and shouts of pain. The fourth one eyed him, wielding a big butcher knife. She was fat, short, and had on an apron stretched over her enormous breasts and belly.

Leon tilted his head at her. "Don't be stupid. Go back the way you came."

She didn't. She wielded the knife and came at him. He waited, feinted left, felt the blade swish by where he'd been and spun back on her. He came up under her arms with his shoulder, caught her wrist, and hyperextended her elbow. She shouted and he elbowed her in the face for it with his other arm.

As she reeled, Leon jerked the knife clear of her hand, and broke her arm over his shoulder. She shrieked even as he kept on rolling the movement and put her in a hip toss. Up and over, she flipped in the air and went off the roof to hit the ground below.

The next one made a grab at him from behind and he threw an elbow, ducked and spun left, and stuck the butcher knife in their belly as he went. He ripped it up their sternum as he rose, opening their body like a zipper. And there was the hot spill of blood and intestines on the roof around them now. It smelled like fart in the already acrid air. Stomach gases had a tendency to do that.

Leon drove a kick into the mess of his attacker and sent them off the roof to join their friends below.

He couldn't do this all day. He had to get to the that church. He was outnumbered but they weren't nearly as well trained as him. There were just more of them. He needed to fatal funnel them and take them out.

He started to leap off the edge of the roof to the ground below and the early morning air was suddenly filled by the sound of a sputtering engine. He waited, listening. And there was the ripping roar of it now. The roar of it.

A chainsaw.

Through the window where he'd come from, a man was emerging. He was tall, fat, and muscled. His naked arms were roped with muscles beneath his filthy shirt. He wore an apron like a butcher over his bloated middle that was stained with brown flecks of blood. His face was covered in a burlap sack soaked in blood. One eye was visible within the confines of the burlap. It was bloodshot and rolling in madness.

The chainsaw man let out a whooping laugh that scared the piss out of him and froze his blood. He raised the chainsaw above his head and trumpeted his battle cry into the steely gray dawn. It the was moment he knew that this was WAY outside of his pay grade. There had better be a HUGE raise in his future.

Leon rolled the shotgun to his shoulder and dropped to one knee.

"Let's do it then! How brave are you, you ugly fuck?"

The chainsaw man ran at him and Leon blasted him in the face with the double-barreled beauty that he held. It bucked, it roared, it blasted death down with a warrior's kiss. And it blew blood and chunks of skin and burlap…but it didn't stop him.

He didn't even care. He stumbled a little and then he…brayed like a jackass. He laughed and giggled and kept on coming. Leon blasted him in the chest this time. The heavy round hit, it exploded with blood in a steamy wash, and he staggered again. But he didn't go down.

And he was too close now. He was four feet away.

Leon turned and grabbed the edge of the roof. He leaped down and started moving.

The town converged on him, laughing and grabbing for him. He spun kicks and used the shotgun like a baseball bat to beat them back. He smelled fetid breath and tasted fear.

He was afraid. He hadn't been afraid since Raccoon City. He was afraid now. And it tasted like pennies and ash in his mouth.

He scrambled, he went down, one was on his back and grabbing for his hair. Leon drove the shotgun butt into its face and sent it sprawling. He staggered back to his feet and ran toward the path on the far side of the village. There was a set of double doors barring his path and a small guard house to the right side.

Leon threw himself inside it and kicked the door closed.

There was nothing more than a table in the room with him, so blocking the door with that wasn't going to help anyone.

The door rattled under the assault of thirty fucking people. He was done. He was dead.

The chainsaw was still roaring from somewhere outside.

Leon reloaded his Magnum and aimed at the door to wait. His hands were…shaking. He was shaking. Annoyed, he dug down into his guts for the will to die, at least in theory, not pissing himself.

The door was thrown open finally and hit the far wall. He blew away the first face that appeared. The .50 caliber round threw the man backward into his companions. Leon fired into that doorway until he ran dry.

When he was out of bullets, he pulled the combat knife. The first one through got it straight to the face. He ripped it clear, spun out and kicked the second into the wall. When another grabbed for him, he dropped down and caught them in a tackle. He tossed them up and into a pile with the other two. The small house was full of people now. He was dead.

There was no way out of it now.

And the chainsaw man was in the doorway.

Leon stabbed the first face that lunged for him and elbowed the second. The chainsaw man giggled loud and high. He advanced into the open door frame.

Leon sliced a throat and took a spray of blood to the face for it. It winged over his forehead and saturated his hair. He kicked the pumping mess into the chainsaw man. Staggering, the chainsaw man brought that horrid weapon down and drove the teeth of it into the offender.

Blood sprayed, the weapon ROARED, the chunks of flesh and muscle were thrown around like horrid confetti. Leon ducked to avoid being soaked in it. The chainsaw man flicked it and sent the remainder of the mutilated corpse to the ground in a red wash.

So it was one on one now, Leon thought desperately, surely he could do this. He could do this. He could DO THIS. Palming the knife, Leon braced, breathing fast and low.

The chainsaw man watched him, that mad eye rolling in the soaked and bloody burlap.

"COME ON! What are you waiting for!?" And maybe his voice squeaked and broke a little. Maybe. A little. Or not. Maybe it was super masculine and deep and not at ALL afraid.

Maybe.

The chainsaw man moved toward him, the bucking, grinding, growling death machine clutched in his hands throwing blood like paint around the small room.

The sound of heavy machine gun fire split the air.

Leon saw the bodies beyond the door start twitching and jerking and flopping with it. The chainsaw man brought the weapon down on him and Leon dropped to one knee, feinted right, and drove that combat knife up into that beefy chest.

Inside the attack range, the chainsaw was useless. Leon tucked himself into that fat belly and twisted the blade in his hand, searching for the heart. The chainsaw man roared and released his weapon with one hand. He backhanded Leon in the face so hard that it threw him to the side.

He slid along the floor and hit the wall. His head smashed into the table leg. His vision went red at the edges.

He heard the toll of the church bell somewhere in the distance.

He tried to get up.

He heard the roar of the chainsaw again, close, so close. It was coming for his face.

Leon felt the fear close off his throat...and the lull of the church bells chased him down, down, down into the waiting dark.


	4. OB3

_A/N:_

 _Onward through the fog! There's a different kind of feeling in this one. The attraction, the flirtation - naturally. Which are hallmarks of my stuff. But no smut - at least not yet. So, it's all eager and heavy without falling into the dirty. Seriously, you can't run from Salazar while you're getting it on, right?_

 _Slainte._

… _._

* * *

 **III: ILLUMINATION**

* * *

" _ **Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness."**_

― _**Anne Frank**_

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain – 2004**

* * *

There are a few things in life that stay with you.

The first time you taste the perfect bite of food: how it slides over the tongue and tantalizes the senses. How it leaves you hungry for another bite. How it won't allow you to do anything but crave another taste.

The first time you kiss the person you covet: how it blends two mouths into one. How it feels like completing the answer to a question you didn't even know you were asking. How it won't allow you to do anything but yearn for another kiss.

The first time you come face to face with death: how it bleeds the black of fear into your mouth and robs your breath. How it shivers across the skin to leave you frozen. How it won't allow you to do anything but pray for the peace to face it gracefully.

For Jill Valentine, she'd faced that moment countless times in her life.

She'd stood toe to toe with death and beat it back while bathed in blood.

She'd risen from the ashes born like a phoenix to take it on again and again.

None of it struck fear into her like the moment she saw him.

He was on the rooftop facing off with…something. Some kind of monster with a chainsaw. Some kind of freak that laughed like Pennywise the Clown. He was out numbered, he was out of luck, and he was running out of time.

She'd come up the back path from the lake. She'd snuck in like the thief she was under the cover of darkness and hidden out while she did reconnaissance work. She would have likely slipped in and out of the town with no one ever the wiser.

But Leon Kennedy had ridden into town like Rick Grimes in The Walking Dead comics on the back of that damn horse into Atlanta. He might as well have thrown a grenade and pulled a Chris Redfield and started swinging. So much for quiet and quick. She might have let him serve as a distraction for her. It might have been brilliant.

But she wasn't a monster. He'd die. He'd die painfully.

He might be careless. He might be common sense stupid. But he didn't deserve to die.

Hefting the machine gun in her hands, she hurried down the back path toward the village.

She watched him go. He was…smooth. He moved fast, he moved like music, he moved with purpose. No wasted gestures. He was probably the best she'd ever seen at hand to hand.

Well, maybe not the best, but he was ALMOST as good as she was.

Chris was better, maybe, at brute strength. Chris excelled at being the underdog.

When Kennedy knew he was fucked, he leaped off the roof and into the middle of the horde. Horrified, she watched him fall and spin and fight. And he was amazing. He was fluid. He recovered himself and ran for it.

Maybe he'd get to the gate at the edge of town and find out it wasn't locked.

Nope.

He went into the tiny guard house instead. So, maybe he was the best she'd seen in one hand. And maybe he was a panicking civilian in the other. Shades of the wet behind the ears rookie he'd been not so long ago.

He was making poor choices. He was acting like a damsel in distress. He was probably huddling in that house and wringing his hands.

He needed a hero.

She was no Chris Redfield…but she'd been known to save his ungrateful ass from time to time too. The town was converging on the doorway. She needed them gone.

The chainsaw man was going to help her get them gone.

She could hear Kennedy fighting for his life in that damn guard house. She fired into the mass of bodies behind the cover of the trees. They shouted and scattered. The chainsaw man took out five of them with his swinging arms. He was clearing them out of his way.

"The enemy of my enemy…" Jill murmured and kept on peppering the town people until they figured out they weren't safe anymore. They started to scatter and disperse. The chainsaw man ducked into the house with Kennedy.

Jill started running.

And the bell on the church tower started tolling.

They all turned, they all stopped, they all listened. They started murmuring and moving toward the church. Jill swung the machine gun to her back and pulled her knife. She burst into the door of the guard tower and the chainsaw was on its downward path to cleave the unconscious head of Leon Kennedy from his impressive shoulders.

Jill whistled. "Hey hey UGLY!"

The chainsaw man spun toward her.

"Yep. That was me, you nasty bastard. Didn't you hear the dinner bell? No? Guess I'll just kill you then."

He rushed her.

She threw her shoulder to the floor and rolled. The knife in her hand zipped out of her hand and struck – right in that rolling eye.

Blinded, the chainsaw man roared that giggling laugh and tossed his body spastically. He hit the wall, he pushed off, he swung the chainsaw blindly.

He was, potentially, more dangerous then he'd ever been now. Without his sight, he was volatile and frightening. Jill rolled under his swinging arms and skidded out. She gripped the Magnum lying on the floor and couched over Leon Kennedy's body. Dead or not, she wasn't going to let that thing hack him into little pieces.

It was WAY too nice of a body to end up in chunks on the floor.

Jill whistled again, the chainsaw man spun toward her, and she put three rounds from the Desert Eagle right into his ravaged face. He went onto his back. The chainsaw spilled out of his hands and across the floor and Jill raced at him while he scrambled to find it, bleeding and whining.

She leapt on his back, reached around his face, and jerked her blade free from his face. He wailed, keening and flopping. She stabbed the blade into his burlap covered temple and ripped it free in a spiral of blood. He was gasping now, twitching. So, she finished him off by gripping his head and shoving the blade into the base of his skull where it met his spinal cord.

He went still, twitching only once more.

To be sure? She picked up his chainsaw, ripped the cord, and felt it sing up her arms. It roared and bit into his neck as she brought it down on his dead body. It threw blood and bisected bone in a brilliant gush and splatter of gore.

When it was over, Jill turned back to Leon Kennedy.

She was afraid he was dead.

Jill hurried toward him and knelt, turning him from his face to his back. She cradled him a little in her arms and felt for a pulse. Strong. Steady. He was a little bruised and bloody. But he was alive.

She patted his face, gently. "Hey…hey hotshot. Wake up."

He made a sound but didn't wake. Determined, Jill scooped down and dragged him over her shoulders. She rose, teetering just a little, and moved with him in a fireman's carry over her as she made her way out of the guard house and hurried back through the trees toward her "safe" zone.

It was little more than a cave beneath the town. But it was untouched by anything but mother nature at this point. She needed a place to check him for bites and wounds.

He was heavy, no lie there. He was ALL muscle. But she'd picked up Chris in Russia and countless others since her time in Delta. He was all muscle, true, but so was she. And her legs were unchallenged as the strongest pair in the business.

She could carry him for miles like this before her body failed her.

She just hoped she'd gotten to him in time.

Otherwise?

If he was infected, she'd have to be the girl that killed Leon Kennedy.

* * *

 _She slid over him. Her hands were smooth, soft, the taste of her mouth embroiled. He gasped, rising, and filled himself with her. In the dark, he could barely see her. He wanted to see her. Why couldn't he see her?_

 _They came together, wet and fast. It brought his mouth open in a moan. It brought hers down to fill his with her tongue. He rolled her beneath him and took her. Her body opened, her legs clasped, her back arched and pressed her breasts into his chest._

 _They merged, fluid, full of each other. He clasped her hands over her head and surged down into her waiting body. He was dying. He was flying. Why couldn't he see her? The darkness bled black and blinding around them._

 _Why couldn't he see her face?_

 _And then the darkness bled red at the edges and she started screaming._

He gasped.

He was already rolling. His hand closed around the smooth throat of his attacker and rolled them beneath him. He grabbed for his knife and found it missing. So, he closed his other hand around that throat and started squeezing.

She gasped, fighting him, and his brain finally snapped fully awake.

He wasn't staring into the face of the enemy.

He was staring into the face of Jill Valentine. He had Jill Valentine pinned beneath him in the dark. He could smell wet and damp. A flickering torchlight near by illuminated the shadows.

His hands eased off, immediately. He wasn't squeezing now, he was just holding. "Jill?"

His voice was hoarse, raspy. Her hands were curled over the back of his biceps. She nodded, gently. "It's ok, Leon. It's ok now. Ease down."

"We're safe?"

"For the moment. I took care of the fucking guy with the chainsaw. The bell started tolling and the rest of the village? They just went into the church like it was calling them. Maybe there was bingo happening or something, I don't know. But it cleared out the town. I gathered you up, I got you here. We're under the village. I found this passage on my way in. It empties out by the lake."

His brain wasn't able to fully grasp what she was saying. It was still groggy. He was still foggy. And why was she here!? Was this part of that dream?

The dream…of course. She was the woman in the dream. Hadn't he dreamed of her a hundred time since they'd met? He looked at her mouth in the firelight.

She was aware of it. She looked at his in return.

Nope, her mind said, this is not how you help anything. You will NOT make out with Leon Kennedy in a dirty cave beneath a ravaged town infested with…things. You are forbidden.

"Why are you here, Jill?" He still hadn't released her throat. She wasn't making any move to get away. He was straddling her on the damp stone floor and she let him, making no sudden movements.

"The BSAA got intel that something was being mined in the caves surrounding the castle. There were rumors that the castellans here used to create monsters from what they found in there. Some stories said witchcraft. Some stories said pacts with devils etcetera. But it's more likely something less mystical and more biological. So here I am. Why are YOU here?"

He shook his head, trying to clear it. The cobwebs lingered, making him angry. His face ached, indicating he'd taken that hit from the chainsaw man hard enough to scramble his brains a little. "The President's daughter is missing. I'm trying to find her. Based on the reaction of the town, I'd say there is definitely something here they don't want found."

"Agreed." Jill shifted, "I'm sorry about taking your clothes. I had to check you for wounds."

And he realized he was shirtless. It hadn't even crossed his mind before that moment. That's how bad his brain was reacting.

His shoulder holster dangled off his belt. He still wore his tactical gloves. He still wore his elbow pads. His boots were missing and she'd hiked up his pants to check his legs. His coat and shirt lay on the ground beside them. He was shirtless in a cave in Spain with Jill Valentine. Why? Because a chainsaw man with a burlap sack face had tried to kill him.

Ladies and gentlemen, Leon thought wryly, welcome to Thanksgiving with Leon Kennedy.

He whispered, softly, "You took him out?"

"I did. He was strong but limited. I blinded him."

Shit.

Of course.

If he hadn't been panicking like a little girl with a bee in her bonnet, he'd have done the same. Jill Valentine was smarter than him. Hadn't she proved that already? Him and his genius IQ. She was savvy and clever and quick.

He was FUCKING lucky she was there. He'd been worried about his luck being for shit. Maybe he needed to see this as a change of that. She'd come into his life and brought good luck with her. It sucked to be stuck here but if she hadn't shown up like Batgirl and saved the day?

He'd be a head shorter.

His hands on her throat shifted and cupped her face. "Thank you, Jill. I'd be a lot less handsome without my head."

Jill smiled a little. "You're welcome. Although, honestly, I'm not sure you'd be any dumber without it."

Yep. He liked her. That mouth of hers killed him.

He laughed and his thumbs stroked the smooth skin of her face. "And I'd be too short to ride the good rollercoasters at Disney World. So, I'd be stuck forever on the teacups."

They were both aware of the staring. They were both aware of staring at each other's mouths in the firelight. Jill laughed and returned, quietly, "What's life look like without a good rollercoaster ride?"

"Pretty fucking boring." His thumb swept over her mouth.

Shit, she thought, he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. Her fingers curled around the backs of his biceps and drew him down to her.

He didn't kiss her.

He let her go and rose.

Jill blinked, frozen on the ground.

The slippery little shit. He had to know what he was doing.

He picked up his shirt from the ground. Jill thought it was something to see sitting there on the stone cave floor. The dangling shoulder holster, the gloves, the elbow pads…and that naked chest. Was there a girl alive that wouldn't enjoy the show of it? Those hip flexors and that ridiculous chest and abs.

It was a shame to cover it up. The shirt didn't really hide it though. It settled over his body and molded to it like glue.

Jill shook her head and rose from the ground. She laughed a little and turned to get her machine gun from the floor.

He watched her move, latching his shoulder holster absently. When she bent over in those snug gray fatigues she was wearing, her legendary ass looked like two Pringles hugging. She wore a wet weather jacket in blue over a black tank top. Her shoulder holster was strapped over it and tucked into the belt on the skinny little pants she had painted on. Her long dark hair was tucked up under a navy blue ball cap.

She didn't have a drop of makeup on.

She shouldn't have made his blood fire fast and hot for her. She didn't even look remotely sexy. But she did. She did look sexy. He wanted to put her against the wall of the cave and fuck her stupid.

Instead, he put his jacket on and left it unzipped.

He said, "I could use your help."

Surprised, she looked over at him. They studied each other in the flickering firelight. He added, "They know about me. I don't know HOW they know. But they do. I think they've got her in that church."

"It's locked. There's no getting in there."

He held her gaze. She lifted her brows. After a moment, she queried, "What?"

And he answered, "You're the master of unlocking."

Amused, Jill answered, "I tried. It's not any tumbler I've come up against. We need the key, Leon. Where the hell do we even begin to look for it?"

Leon tucked his sidearm into his thigh holster. "The RPD station in Raccoon was like that. Utter fucking joke. Locks and traps and shit everywhere and pu—"

"Puzzles."

He caught her look. "Yeah. Puzzles. You too?"

"Yeah. The Mansion in the Arklay Mountains. Spencer's Mansion. It was a booby trap of crap."

"A booby trap of crap? Sounds like a Disney movie." He smirked a little.

Jill chuckled and step toward him. In her boots, she was tall enough that she didn't have to look up terribly far to see his face. Her fingers itched to touch him over that tight t-shirt.

She rubbed them together instead and said, "I'll help you. It's the President's daughter. And you'd be dead if I hadn't been here. If I leave it to you, the mission might go unfinished."

His face was deadpan.

Hers was highly amused. She winked at him and started toward the mouth of the cave.

And he watched those hugging Pringles the whole way.

Shaking his head, laughing a little, he followed her into the cool air.

Jill waited for him, scanning the little map in her hands. In the foggy gray light, her flawless face was beautiful. Those eyes of hers were like husky eyes, pale and surrounded by thick dark lashes. She scanned the terrain before them.

Leon realized they were adjacent to the lake. It was a pretty view, admittedly. The lake encompassed as far as the eye could see. Leaves fluttered and fell from the trees surrounding it to send tiny ripples across the glass-like surface.

Jill said, "The path up this way should take us to the Mayor's house."

He glanced at her face. "The Mayor?"

"Essentially. They might go as far as to call him the village chief."

"Not a bad idea. The key might be there."

Jill shrugged, "It's a place to start anyway."

"Agreed."

They moved up the path together, both keeping their sidearms loose but ready. The cool air felt good on the skin. The smell of changing leaves and fall was pleasant. It might have been a nice walk…save for the all people trying to kill them.

They talked. It was easy between them. She told him about STARS and the betrayal by Wesker. She told him about hanging out in Raccoon after Chris had fled to find answers. They had passed, within inches, of each other that fateful night.

"I wonder why we didn't meet," He mused as they lost the path and started picking their way through the forest in the general direction. The more they walked, the more dead the foliage became. Here it was damper and more swampy terrain as well.

"Circumstance? Fate?" Jill laughed a little, "Hard to say. I was convinced I'd save lives by staying behind. I escaped with one other person. That's it. And I was infected while I was there."

He paused and looked at her face. "…how in the hell did you survive it?"

Jill shrugged. "I didn't turn as quickly, which implies a natural resistance right off the bat. And the guy I was with found the anti-virus. I recovered. What's funny about it? I haven't been sick a day since. Not a sniffle. Not a cough. Not a runny nose. Just…nothing."

She held his eyes for a moment. That hair in his face was something to see. She wanted to brush it back and look at him without it. She was betting it would take her breath away.

Amused, she turned to keep moving and tripped on a stump. She stumbled and he caught her elbow to keep her upright.

"Easy, clumsy. You keep tripping they're gonna change your nick name to the master of not walking." Those jokes. Awful. And wonderful. And such a simple touch.

Just fingers on an elbow. Her attraction to him irritated her. She kept remembering his face when she'd gripped a handful of his hair to feel him. That smell of him – smoke and skin and something expensive. It echoed around him now.

She turned a little toward him and her hand slid over his stomach above his belt.

She opened her mouth to say something, likely stupid and girly, and they could hear the sound of footsteps in the dry leaves.

He let go of her arm and gestured with his head. Jill nodded and shifted behind the big tree they were standing beside. He chose another, aligning his back to it and raising his weapon at the ready. They breathed, they waited, and the footsteps drew closer.

There was muttering in Spanish. Something about THE AGENT and THE PRISONER. There was something about THE GIRL and the BOSS. And then that name again: Lord Saddler.

The men passed, moving off into the woods and away. Jill lifted her brows at him. They waited another few minutes and eased off in the other direction. When they were a good distance away, Jill said, "I keep hearing that. Saddler. It's gotta be the guy I was getting reports on. The castellan? Something."

Leon nodded as they stepped through the barren trees. "It's the guy in charge, without a doubt. But they keep talking about Mendez too. I get the feeling he's the chief you were talking about."

"Most likely."

There was a row of run down houses poked into pockets along the forest. Two men came out the door of one unprompted. In surprise, Leon grabbed Jill's hand and threw her against the tree in front of him. He pressed against her and covered her mouth with one hand.

She kept her eyes on his face, he kept his on the men as they fastened a heavy lock on the door of the house. Her hands pressed on chest against the slick black shirt. Her eyes were on his profile as he watched the men moving away from the locked door. Something was in that house worth protecting.

Ashley?

It was too much to hope.

When they were beyond his eye line, Leon said softly, "We need to get in that house. You ready to show me those skills of yours?"

He rolled his eyes to her face.

His hand slid off her mouth slowly.

His voice was, a little breathy, as he said, "Sorry for grabbing you. I didn't want them to see you."

Jill nodded gently. Neither of them moved for a moment.

One of her hands slid against that slick shirt and over his collarbone and upper chest. Yep, she thought a little desperately, his heart beat fast and needy. He ducked his head under her ball cap. And her heart was beating fast and needy now too.

She closed her eyes and angled her face up to him.

And they both heard it.

It was a thunking sound.

It was a clunking sound.

It was a..hammering?

Was it their hearts?

Not exactly. It was something close by thumping over and over.

They slid apart, guns raised.

Together, they approached the house with the locked door. Leon covered them as Jill knelt to pick the lock. They didn't say anything, not a peep. Something was still thumping and bumping in the house.

He'd almost kissed her by that tree.

It was out there. They knew it was out there. That first night they'd met, they'd almost kissed then too. She'd touched him and run away. And what now?

Was he going to nail Jill Valentine against the tree in the middle of a mission? Instead of saving Ashley Graham, he was going to stay in the forest with Jill sucking face and trying to get his hands on that fantastic ass of hers?

The idea had such merit that it actually made him laugh a little.

She glanced up at him, curious.

Leon shook his head and she went back to picking the lock.

He watched the lines of naked trees while she worked. He tried to picture himself fucking her up against one while the bad guys were running out of the forest toward them. Maybe he'd turn her around and fuck her doggy style while they came at them. He could just shoot zombies over her back while she bounced and screamed. One hand in her hair, one hand on his pistol; he'd take them out while he dicked her down.

It was almost comic to picture.

Almost…but not quite.

Because he was went hard just thinking about her.

With his back to her, he shifted his stiff dick in his pants to give himself a little relief. The lock fell to the porch with a clink of metal and he turned back to her. She slid her lock picks into her back pocket and grabbed her gun.

Jill glanced over at him as she rose. Ordinarily, she didn't notice certain things. She didn't pay much attention to men in general. Occasionally, one grabbed her eye for longer than a minute. But most men were a waste of her time lately.

What was it about Leon Kennedy that drew her attention?

He was gorgeous, yes, but so were lots of men. There was something almost awkwardly sexy about him. He radiated charm. He leaked charisma. But something told her that most of that was just an act. An armor. A way of protecting himself from getting hurt. Was that it? Was she drawn to the softness of him?

Her eyes slid up his body as she rose.

It skimmed boots and legs and groin.

Her throat closed up. Her heart hammered hard enough to sound SO LOUD in her ears. Because soft inside or not. He was HARD.

It wasn't just his muscles. It wasn't just his demeanor. He was hard all over. She could see the evidence of that as she rose. He was hard.

Why did that matter AT ALL while on a mission like this? It shouldn't. It shouldn't matter at all. But she kept staring at it. She should be thinking about survival and locating the key to get them in the church and what awful thing was being kept behind lock and key in this ugly run down house.

But he was hard.

And she wanted to wrap her fist around it and tug.

Damn it.

"Jill?"

Her eyes snapped to his face. She got the impression he'd been trying to get attention for some time. So, that was the icing on the shit cake there. She was LITERALLY being distracted by his dick. She blinked at his concerned face.

"You ok? You need a minute?"

She laughed now, touched by his concern, and shook her head. "No. No. I'm good."

"You sure? Did you eat today? You look flushed."

Ha.

Oh, haha. Oh lord. He was trying to kill her. Jill felt the flush spread further down her neck. She waved a hand in front of her face and laughed again. "I'm fine. Really. Probably just nerves from before with those guys nearly seeing me. I'm fine. Promise."

He nodded and eased open the door. He cleared high and she cleared low as they swept the room beyond it. Empty. Just a table and a cabinet against the wall.

They moved inside and Leon closed the door behind them. Still, with pistols at the ready, they eased into the main room. He started to take a step forward and she backed up into him. He bumped into the wall, her butt brushed against his crotch, and neither was aware that the other one was about to lose their mind over it. They were all hormones and heavy breathing. Jesus. This was why you didn't take a partner on a mission, Leon thought madly, the adrenaline, the rush, coupled with the already thick attraction was making him feel like a teenage boy about to touch a boob for the first time.

A little squeaky, Jill's voice said, "Sorry. Tripwire. You almost got your head blown off there."

And now he laughed. He just laughed. Because he WANTED his head blown off. He wanted her to blow it off. Jesus. How was he supposed to do this mission with his dick aching for her? Christ, it was like high school with guns and death. His randy body didn't care that they were courting the great beyond with each step, it wanted to plow Jill Valentine's belly while she squealed.

She was still pressed against him. He wanted to rub all over her like a pervert. Instead, he said, "Do you see the way to disable it?"

"I'm looking. Hold on." She crouched down and her face….was right there. It was even with his crotch. The side of her face was inches from him.

Embarrassed by himself, he slid down the wall to crouch beside her.

They both followed the line of the trip wire to the far wall. Jill glanced at his face and reported, quietly, "It's rigged to a pretty small charge. I think if we trip it remotely, it won't hurt anything. If you stepped on it, it would knock you on your ass, no lie there."

He didn't even glance back at her. He was afraid if he did, he'd turn to stone.

He rose and Jill rose as well. They backed up down the hallway a little and Leon kicked a chunk of rotting roof toward the trip wire. It flipped and touched it. The sound was instant. It was a POP followed by a WHOOSH of pressure as it sparked and knocked the table over as it went off. The table caught on fire but the wood was wet so it sizzled out.

There was little roof left of the house they were in. Rot and age had bloated and warped the wood. Great holes remained in what still stood, allowing the elements to destroy the interior of the house.

He started forward and she put a hand out to stop him. It brushed over his belt and skimmed over his groin. She hadn't meant to. She was just alerting him to danger.

Because the thumping in the room had gotten louder. And now it was followed by a mumbling sound.

But her hand had passed over him. It sang up his body and pissed him off. He was getting more annoyed by the minute. Not at her. At himself. Was he fifteen fucking years old? He needed to focus on what mattered here and stop thinking with his dumb stick.

They split apart to locate the source of the noise.

Leon tracked it to the cabinet and opened it: Empty.

Annoyed, he started away and felt the draft against his knee. He stopped. He waited. And he felt it again.

Yep.

He turned back and put his shoulder to the cabinet. Jill watched him shove it three feet over and reveal the room beyond. She followed him into it, guns up and ready.

The only thing in the subsequent room was another wardrobe. This one was rocking a little. It was clearly the source of the noise.

Leon said, "What are the odds Ashley Graham is in there?"

Amused, Jill answered, "Pretty small. What are the odds there's a BOW in there?"

Leon chuckled and shook his head. "Slightly more likely. Maybe it's neither. Maybe it's one of those adorable monsters from that Pixar movie."

Appreciating his pop culture reference, she answered, "That would be the best alternative. Of course, maybe it's Tom Cruise."

Leon laughed now, kinda in love with her. "Nah. He'll never come out of the closet."

Jill kept her gun on the wardrobe as they crossed toward it. She did the math in her head as she walked. She knew he was younger than her. He was something like twenty five or so. It wasn't more than a couple years but she was still older. It was an interesting feeling to know she was likely in school when he was in diapers.

Maybe thinking of him as a gummy toothed toddler would take away from picturing him naked and mounting her like a prized pony. She shivered and he glanced at her again, concerned. "Cold?"

"I'm fine. Really."

He shook his head and slipped his jacket off.

Leon slid it over her. She took it. It was a bitch who said no to such an offer. She cuddled it around her and it was INCREDIBLY warm. More than that? It smelled like him. She wanted to snuggle it around her naked body like a stalker.

But she said, "You're gonna freeze in that t-shirt."

"Nope. I rarely get cold." And he was NEVER going to get cold with her with him. She kept his blood pumping better than a ten mile run in high summer. "Ready?"

She was ready for lots of things. But she nodded as Leon grabbed the handle of the wardrobe. He counted off with his head and jerked the handle.

There was no BOW. There was no adorable monster. There was no Ashley Graham or secretly gay scientologists. Just a potentially all gay man in a vest. He was all stringy dark hair and silky dress shirt with that embroidered vest. His brown pants were paired with fancy cowboy boots. His mouth was taped and he was making humming noises from the ground.

Leon tugged the tape free and the man coughed and said, "Aye aye aye…what took you so long?"

His heavy Spanish accent was amusing. He sounded like Speedy Gonzales. His face was a mixture of long chin and heavy bladed nose with dark eyes beneath thick black brows. Not a bad face, Jill mused, if you liked that kind of artistic look.

Leon quipped, "What's the rush? It's not like you were going anywhere. You were just a little tied up."

The man blinked and finally grinned. He could appreciate bad jokes. Seriously. He said, "Gotta smoke?"

Leon shook his head, "Got gum."

Jill knew he had smokes of course. She could feel them in his coat pocket.

There was a sound from outside the house. Jill blinked and Leon shifted. She opened her mouth in surprise and he grabbed her and stuffed her in the closet the man had fallen out of. She tried to protest and he shook his head and covered her mouth. He leaned forward and whispered against her ear, "Stay quiet. Stay in here. If something happens, you're the big hero. Find Ashley Graham."

His mouth dragged over her cheek as he pulled away.

Wait, she thought madly, give me a kiss.

And he shut her in the closet.

The man on the floor said, "Clearly, you're good with the ladies no? I'm Luis Sera. Untie me, _amigo._ Let's get out of here."

"Fine. And then you tell me what the hell you were doing in there." Leon flipped him over to untie him and roll him back.

"What else? I was waiting to be rescued."

Leon opened his mouth to retort.

And they were no longer alone.

He didn't even pull his weapon.

Sera sighed dramatically and said, "Well…if it isn't the Big Cheese."

Leon judged the size of the huge man in the doorway. He was easily seven feet tall. He was muscled bigger than Chris Redfield. And he looked like he fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.

He was all bald head, long scraggly beard, and big gray coat. He could shoot him. He could do nothing. He could wait for him to find Jill.

Nope.

Leon considered the alternative and raced at him. All seven feet and probably two hundred fifty pounds of him. It was like David rushing at Goliath.

He spun a back kick at him. The Big Cheese caught it with one enormous hand and smirked at him. He tilted his head, looking at Leon like one might study a bug.

And then he flicked him away.

He just…flicked him away. And Leon flipped up and over and came down on top of the wryly amused Luis Sera. Sera hadn't even moved. He knew they were fucked apparently. They both grunted, Sera took the hit like a champ, and Leon's head racked into the floor. It was too soon after the last head blow; he was out like a light the second it struck.

Inside the wardrobe, Jill was very quiet.

She heard footsteps and voices. She understood enough Spanish to hear them mention being impressed with Leon's skills in the town. Sera? Who was he? She waited until all was quiet and eased out of the wardrobe.

And she pulled her communicator to tag HQ.

To her enormous surprise, it was Chris that answered on the other end. His amused face met hers on the screen and Jill said, "What in the fuck are you doing running Field Support?"

"They said you needed somebody who wasn't an utter fucking ass clown to ride shotgun on this crack ship you're sailing. There's nothing there, Jill. It was rumors."

And she said, "You sitting down, big guy?"

"I am."

"Then listen up…I'm about to tell you shit you will NOT believe. But first I need you to activate that GPS tracker Quint gave me before I lit out last night. I stuck it on something important to me that I need to find…quickly." Clearly, she'd stuck it on Leon Kennedy. But Chris didn't need to know that.

When the little red dot lit up on her screen, she breathed a little easier. Save Ashley Graham, he'd implored before he'd closed her in. Fuck Ashley Graham, she thought, she was going to save him instead.

Chris lifted his brows at her, "Spill it, Jilly Bean. I ain't got all day. If you're gonna waste my time, at least show me a boob and make it worth my while."

Jill snorted a little and rolled her eyes, "You perv. Keep it in your pants. And don't talk like a dumb hick, Red. It makes you seem like a bigger meathead then you already are."

"Kiss ass, Valentine. Out with it."

Jill shifted where she stood, "I need everything we've got on a guy named Lord Saddler. Also a Luis Sera. Potentially a local here."

"You kidding?"

"Do I sound like I'm kidding? And be quick about it. Something is all kinds of fuck up here, Chris. We need to move quick."

They held gazes for a long moment. And she watched him put the playful ribbing and the flirting aside and focus on the mission. That was his thing. He knew when to play the game and when to back off. "Tell me."

And she did.

Even as she prayed, silently, for a little more time to track the dot that was shivering on her tiny communicator.

"Hold on, Leon," she murmured, "I'm comin for ya."


	5. OB4

_A/N:_

 _What needs said? Nothing much. Our favorite hapless box of bad jokes and good lucks continues on his path to find the President's pride and joy. What stands in his way? Bad guys and his own sense of humor...and his endless desire to make Jill..his valentine. *cough*_

 _Slainte._

… _._

* * *

 **IV: BLIGHT**

* * *

" _ **Life is nothing but mutual infection."**_

― _**Richard Powers, Orfeo**_

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain – 2004**

 _The spill of her across his body was all sleek and muscled. A thoroughbred. A racehorse. A rolling blend of speed and desire. He cupped her face and turned her into his body, shivering with the need that ate around the edges of his world and left it bleeding for her._

 _The taste of her thrilled him. The smell of her filled him. The feel of her killed him._

 _He dragged her down to feed her the hungry taste of his tongue and she gripped handfuls of his hair. She jerked his head back and hissed. He struggled, he gasped, and she drove her fangs into the side of his neck._

 _He jerked, grunting, dying…as she pumped him full of her poison._

 _Her taunting voice whispered in his ear as he died for her, died in her, bowed to his back beneath the assault of it. "Feeble human…let us give you…our power."_

Leon shouted, jerking his body.

"Hey…hey…relax, _amigo._ "

He was sitting on the floor in a dirty room. There were stacks of broken crates in one corner and cobwebs cluttering the rest. If he sneezed, Leon was pretty sure it would kick up tornados of dust around him. He moved his arms and found them shackled to the man sitting behind him on the floor.

What had he said his name was?

Leon queried, "Who are you again?"

The man chuckled a little, " _Me llamo, Luis Sera._ "

Leon nodded, looking at the sad little window on the far wall. If they could get free, he MIGHT fit through that window. It was the first real time he regretted putting on muscle over the years. The thin rookie cop in Raccoon could have squeezed right through that damn porthole size notch.

Sera continued, "I used to be a cop in Madrid. I grew up in this damn village. You think they care? _Nada._ You a cop or something?"

"Nope."

"Yeah. You don't look the type."

Curious, Leon lifted a brow. "What's the type?"

"You know…a real _pendejo._ You're Americano though, _si?"_

"Yeah. Names Leon Kennedy. And actually, I was a cop too once. For one whole day."

Sera chuckled a little, shifting on the hard floor. "And I thought I was bad at my job."

Leon snorted a bit and scoffed. "Yeah. Somehow I managed to get my ass wrapped up in that mess in Raccoon City."

"Ahhhh. The incident with the viral outbreak, yeah?"

Leon nodded a little and shifted. He jerked his arms and Sera glanced at him over his shoulder. "I think I saw a sample once in the lab in Madrid."

Leon showed him the picture of Ashley Graham he'd pulled from his back pocket. "I'm looking for her. You seen her?"

"Hmmm. Nope. But I bet I know who she is."

Leon lifted a brow at him. "I'm all ears."

"The President's daughter?"

Jerking a bit, Leon tried to look at him better. "Alright. Nobody guesses that good. Spill the beans, Sera. What do you know?"

"It's a long story. Suffice it to say, I'll do what I can to help you find her. Help me and let's, _vamanos. Si?"_

"Sounds good to me. I need to find that girl I was with."

Sera smirked a little at him. "Ah. _Hermosa ángel._ She is your lady, no?"

Leon chuckled a little. "No. Just a friend."

"You're a terrible liar, _amigo."_

Leon laughed now, shaking his head. "That's my story and I'm sticking to it."

There was a squeal of metal and the horrid scraping of nails on a chalkboard. They both looked toward the hallway and one of the villagers was moving toward them. He was walking on a broken ankle without wincing, just dragging that bum foot behind him like…Pyramid Head or something from Silent Hill. He was dragging an ENORMOUS scythe with him.

His face was a mask of blood. One eye was ravaged and missing, oozing and spilling down his cheek that was nothing more than naked bone and chunks of old skin. Sera whispered, " _Hijo de la chingada."_

Leon had to agree. Son of a bitch sounded about right.

"Do something cop!" Sera shouted as the man moved toward them. He raised the scythe above his head with a mutter of guttural Spanish.

Leon waited, calmly. Sera was panicking. He said, "Just WAIT!"

The scythe came swinging down toward them and Leon shouted, "NOW!"

And they jerked their arms apart at the same time. The scythe made a WHOOSH of sound like steel striking stone as it came at them, missed their skin by a breath, and smashed into the cuffs that bound them. The metal ripped, clanging apart, as they rolled.

Leon threw his body like he was trying to put out flames. Sera scrambled like a crab toward the wall. And the man with the scythe came for Leon with that weapon above his head again.

With no time to decide, Leon went to his back and anchored his hips. The scythe came down, he stuck his boot into the man's stomach and pelvis, and Leon humped and rolled. The man went up, went over, and smashed into the wall. The impact snapped his ravaged neck. He slid down it, twitching and done.

Sera said, "Yeah. No cop. Listen, _amigo,_ I'll do what I can. But a bloke like you? You don't need me slowing you down. We will meet again, Leon Kennedy. Your _amiga,"_ And Sera did air quotes and laughed around the Spanish word for friend, "Is likely headed toward the church. You should do the same. The answers? You'll find them there."

Leon turned back from looking at the dead man on the floor and Sera was gone. Annoyed, Leon picked up the scythe from the floor. At least he wasn't entirely weaponless now. The grim reaper would be proud.

He rolled the heavy handle in his gloved grip and started toward the door. His communicator signaled and he was surprised as hell it was still with him. He took it from his cargo pocket and clicked the video.

Hunnigan sighed with relief. "Leon! Jesus. You were off the grid. I didn't know what the hell happened to you. You're alright?"

Leon quipped, "Seems that way. Sorry about that. I was a little…restrained. I ran into a civilian being held captive. Luis Sera?"

"Names not familiar. But I'll dig up what I can on him. Are you ok to continue?"

"Seemingly. Although, Hunnigan?"

"Yes?"

He gave her a bland look. "I think you should let the President know that I'm gonna be needing a fucking raise when this is over."

She smirked and twitched her mouth. And finally, she laughed a little, "I think he'll probably find that in the budget somewhere, Agent Kennedy. You want to know what I've found out about that area?"

"Sure. Hit me with it."

"Surprisingly the BSAA has stepped in to offer counterintelligence to us without being directly consulted."

Amused, Leon chuckled now. "Imagine that."

"Between the two organizations, we have a fair bit of information. There's cult activity in the region reported to be called the _Los Illuminados_."

"The enlightened ones?"

"Apparently."

Leon tapped his boot, considering things. "That's a mouthful. What's the specifics on them?"

"Ancient texts found in cave drawings suggest that the first castellan came to power during the Spanish Inquisition and eradicated the remainders of the cult. But before that? They showed ingestion of parasites and things that created…monsters. For lack of a better word. It showed mutations that, if they'd had access to genetics labs, we'd know the specifics of by now. Without that? It's speculation and rumor. But there appears to be a reemergence of the cult in the area. The area is under the rule of its 8th Castellan, Ramon Salazar. If you can get in touch with Salazar, you might be able to get his cooperation in retrieving Ashley and shutting down the Illuminados."

Leon nodded a little, "First the church. Sera, the guy I found, seems to the think the answers are there. If not? I heard them mentioning a castle. I'm assuming that's where Salazar will be. Are we sure he's not in on it?"

Hunnigan shrugged a little. "I can't get any confirmation on anything at this point, Leon. The BSAA wants to send in a contingent of agents to back you up."

"That's a bad fucking idea, Hunnigan. This place is a swamp of shit. The bigger the presence, the worse for Ashley."

"I agree. Which is why I rejected the offer. Although they mentioned they do have an agent already in the area. Any chance of a rendezvous?" She lifted her finely arched brows at him.

She had no idea how much he would love to rendezvous with the BSAA's agent. He'd like to rendezvous, parlez-vous, and foutre-vous all day long with Jill Valentine. Instead? He was trying to track down crazy cult members with a political prisoner in a country that was consistently trying to kill him.

So, he sighed, "I can try to get in contact. Can't hurt. I'll keep you updated."

"Sounds good. Good luck, Leon. I'll go mention the raise."

"That's my girl." And he clicked off.

Wielding the scythe, he eased toward the door. There was a shiver of movement outside the door window. Bracing, Leon lifted it over his head and stepped to the side of the door. It eased inward, there was a shuffling of boots on the other side, and a face cleared the door.

He swung, the blade made a metal swish of sound, and his attacker rolled. The scythe thunked into the door where they'd been. He jerked the scythe out of the wood and spun back to find Luis Sera staring at him from the floor and wielding a long barrel .44 Magnum.

The blade of the scythe was an inch from Sera's face.

"Easy, _amigo. ¡Joder!"_

And Leon tended to agree with that vulgar expletive too. "Fuck is about right, _buddy._ What are you doing back?"

Sera grinned a little at him and took the hand Leon put down to hoist him to his feet. He pulled the Magnum from the back of his pants and offered it butt first. "I found our weapons. Some _pendejo_ left them in a box on the back side of the house."

"Thanks." Leon took it and cleared it. It had a full magazine in it. He kept it loose in his hands. "You should come with me. It's gotta be safer together man."

"Thanks, _amigo._ But I have things I need to take care of first. Atonement…if you will. I'll catch up with you." Sera paused at the door. "Do yourself a favor, Leon. Find the girl and _escapar._ Don't linger here. People have a tendency of turning…into something else."

Leon watched him go, sighing. "My! People come and go so quickly here."

He was pretty sure Jill would have gotten the Oz reference. Pretty sure. She probably would have laughed at it. He was hoping she was ok. Who was he kidding? She was better off than he was. He was screwed.

As Leon eyed the wooden struts and walkways in front of him, he realized he'd been dragged somewhere close to the mines. He could hear water in the distance and they were high enough up the rise that the wind had picked up. The cloudy gray sky rumbled a little, indicating that rain was going to be joining the party pretty soon. He could smell sulfur and freshly turned soil and taste the acrid flavor of explosives and ash.

Somebody was blowing shit up around here. And they weren't being subtle about it. What had Hunnigan said? Cave drawings. Whatever was happening had started in those caves. The mines were probably a hotbed of infection and information.

It didn't matter. Not now. Not yet. Ashley Graham was the mission. The rest could be left to the agents that would come in to clean up behind him. He was on a fetch and carry here, not an excavation. One thing at a time.

First locate Jill.

"Ashley," He said it out loud and shook himself, "First locate ASHLEY. Not Jill. Idiot."

Please, his brain said, go locate Jill. It's what you want to do. And he said, "Nope. I'm on duty." Which was, of course, "The story of my life."

He eased open the small gate leading to the wooden catwalks. He could see people milling about and hear them talking. He was WAY outnumbered here. He had a scythe and a Magnum. He'd played the lone gunmen in that fucking village and nearly lost his head.

There was no Jill here to save him this time if things went south.

It was stealth or death here. Stealth or death.

Jesus.

He eased down the narrow wooden walk and slid behind a building. A guard wandered passed, whistling and carrying a hatchet in one hand. Leon waited, waited and grabbed him from behind. Before he could do anything but grunt, Leon twisted his jaw and snapped his neck.

Quietly, he dragged the body behind the building and poked it into an empty crate. To conceal it, Leon covered it with a dirty piece of tarp. He hooked the hatchet to his belt and picked up the scythe. The Magnum was tucked happily in her holster off his chest.

Leon shifted and moved to the side of the building. He peeked out to see the movement of the other guards. There was a watchtower above the walkways. A man sat there swinging his legs and looking bored. Two more crossed back and forth along the wooden bridges that spanned the ENORMOUS drop into nothing. He looked down. Yep. Nothing.

It was craggy rock and sky. It was a long way down to die splattered on the bottom of the mountain. Likely? Pink mist. Instant implosion. Best case scenario? He'd end up in pieces like some kind of fucking nursery rhyme character.

He muttered, "Humpty Dumpty had a great fall - and a pretty good spring and summer, too."

If no one was around to hear you pun…did it really happen?

Amused with himself, Leon eyed the gate on the far side of the gulch he was in. It was a good run from here to there. He needed to cross the walkway and get to the other side. If they caught him, they'd probably toss him into the waiting sky beneath them.

And he whispered, "The survival rate after a fall into a deep hole is "abyss"mal." He made the drum motion after he finished speaking.

Yep. It was bad. He was punning all over the place. Some people, when faced with fear, rose above it to excel at thing. Some people chose the path of bad puns and uncomfortably corny dialogue. He was there. He was hiding behind bad humor.

It was a sad day.

Thanksgiving with Leon Kennedy: Chainsaw men, viruses, bad puns, and chasing two pringles in a pair of pants like a horny teenage boy. Shit, if he could catch that ass of Jill's, it'd be spanksgiving instead.

He stopped, leaned on the wall, and took a deep breath. Get it together, his mind advised him, you're losing it. Soon you'll start suffering from verbal diarrhea. You'll start shooting off jokes that have no merit. Your puns will suffer. Do you want your puns to suffer?

Amused, easing up on the tension with it, he leaned around the wall again to judge things. He could likely sneak under the watchtowers eye. He just needed a distraction. He turned back to the body he'd hidden against the wall.

With a little bit of flourish, he stood it upright and shoved. It hit the railing and flipped over it.

And it made A TON of noise on the way down.

Leon hurried away into the shadows beside the house, muttering, "I should be eating pumpkin pie. I should be eating pumpkin pie."

He hurried away when the men started yelling and moving toward the noise. They began to gather around the railing where he'd shoved the corpse. He used their combined attention to climb quickly up the watch tower. The lookout was trying to see what they were all staring down at. Leon eased up behind him and snapped his neck. He slumped and Leon set him in his chair and angled him so it appeared he was watching things.

Thrilled, Leon hefted the sniper rifle on the ground beside his corpse. He looped it over his back.

"…jackpot." It was a gift. It was an opportunity. He was always a man known to "take a shot" at new opportunities. Jesus. He was going to kill himself with bad puns. He was like a sick kid. He didn't puke everywhere. He just vomited bad humor. Clearly his sense of humor was a bit dated here. He was reverting to a ten year old boy.

Leon moved across the walkway while they gathered and muttered in colloquial Spanish and pointed. He made it to the far side and hurried up the rise. The mountain walk curved sharply and allowed him to duck behind cover as they began to turn back. He could catch snatches of their conversation. They were speculating that the other man was stupid and clumsy.

Leon's heart hammered as he listened to them resume their meanderings. He hurried up the path behind the closest house. As he swung around the corner to the gate at the end, he came face to face with a man with a pitchfork. Leon froze. The man froze. And he opened his mouth to shout a warning.

He didn't get to do it. Just a small peep of sound as Leon swung the scythe like the harbinger of death and cleaved his head from his shoulders. The sharp blade struck, met skin and bone, and bisected one from the other. It threw blood in a slicing arc as it went. There was little sound save for the ker-plunk of the head hitting the ground and the short squelch of the neck as it pumped blood in a red wash down the dirty overalls.

Leon grabbed the body and the head, dragging them over to poke them behind the building. He should probably feel something about it. But he felt nothing but relief that it wasn't him.

He set the head nicely in the lap of the body. He murmured, "Sorry, dude. But losing your head in a fight is a no brainer."

Leon winced at himself and hurried toward the closed gate. He eased it open just far enough to squeeze through the other side. With a sigh of relief, he found himself back in the forest. But the path was protected on all sides by the jagged mountain. So, he was able to clear it and move quickly toward the big house that waited at the end.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the house was clearly the Big Cheese's. It was well maintained and had pretty stone and ivy clinging to its white washed walls. The roof wasn't filled with holes and the windows all looked intact.

There was a little set of steps up to the back porch. He moved up it and found himself face to face with a door. In the center of the door, a pretty green orb waited. It had a weird shape reflected in the depthless glass. Somewhat like the scrying stone one might find in a fortune teller's tent, it wanted him to look into the depths of it and…what?

He touched the orb and it rolled a little. The shape within the glass shifted.

Ok.

So, it wanted him to make the right shape appear. But what was the shape it wanted?

He turned it randomly and waited. Nothing. Nope.

With a long suffering sigh, he pulled his communicator and looked at the information Hunnigan had sent him. It was full of documentation and sightings and recorded history. But there was nothing worth no—

"Wait…" There it was. The symbol for Los Illuminados. It was like a four armed spider with crooked legs. It had a stinger off the butt like a wasp. Why was it bug? It just looked like a bug to him. Leon turned back to the orb and started rolling it.

When it settled into the shape of the insignia, the door clicked. A metallic hiss sounded and it slid up with a rumble of dust. "Bingo."

Leon eased into the room it revealed. It was a bedroom, clearly, and was dusty. No one had slept here in a long time. The antique dresser and wrought iron bed were ancient. He was betting they'd been sitting around since the damn Spanish Inquisition waiting to be replaced. The floor floofed dust up at him as he walked.

The carpet had been lovely once and potentially red. It was just dirty and faded now. He moved to the small ornate box sitting on the beautiful dresser. His gloved fingers lifted the lid. There was a tinkle of music and…the key.

A key.

A key in the shape of the bug insignia. "How much do we want to bet this is for the church?" It was too obvious to be bet on. But it needed said anyway.

Leon picked up the key and poked it in his pants pocket. He eased toward the only door out of the house and turned the knob. Gun in one hand, door in the other, he cleared the small hallway that the door opened out into.

But it wasn't empty.

Nope.

Not even a little bit.

As the door slid open the rest of the way, he came face to face…with the Big Cheese. Mendez didn't even hesitate. He hooked one huge hand around Leon's throat and lifted him straight up off the ground. Choking, gasping, Leon kicked uselessly as he dangled.

The other man tilted his head, studying him as he died. And then he dropped him unceremoniously to the floor.

Surprised, Leon scrambled back and away.

And the Big Cheese spoke. It was a bit like listening to a Spanish bear trying to talk. "You carry the same blood as me. For this alone, you survive this day. You are talented and quick. This is a sign of strength amongst us. But do not misunderstand me…if you persist and become…unpleasant to our eyes…you will suffer severe consequences. Desist in your search. Return to your master and wait. Join us when you are ready. Do not waste our gift to you."

And, without killing him, the Big Cheese and his bald head, his scraggly beard, and his horrible bicolored eyes opened the bedroom door that Leon had just come through and went inside. Leon gained his feet, staggering a little. He hadn't killed him.

The same blood?

What the fuck did that mean?

And was that a glass eye? Clearly, the Big Cheese had made someone mad enough to get it torn out of his head. Maybe he made a spectacle of himself. Maybe he was framed.

Jesus the puns were killing him. "Maybe they found his jokes couldn't get any corneas."

Oh, dear lord, enough with the eye jokes! His brain was on overload with the puns. Seriously. He needed a lobotomy. Although whatever SAME BLOOD meant, he had a feeling he was going to find out soon enough what it felt like to get one.

Leon knew only that he couldn't let the Big Cheese get away. No way. He eased open the door to the bedroom. Which, in hindsight, might have been a mistake. A good hard kick MIGHT have given him the element of surprise.

Mendez smashed one huge arm into him the second the door opened and sent him spinning. He felt like he'd been kicked by a water buffalo. Maybe hit by a bus. The pain exploded through his whole body. He hit the floor gasping and trying to decide if his lungs had collapsed.

Before he could figure that out, Mendez dropped one massive boot down on his chest and started…pushing.

HOLY HELL.

Being crushed by large feet could be very depressing. And, apparently, even in death, his brain was NOT going to stop punning. His whole world ran red and white. Leon was making some kind of noise as Mendez tried to smoosh him into the dusty rug like a cockroach.

He heard something crunch. His bones!?

And then two very distinct POPS.

Mendez turned toward the window. Something red and long legged and smiling was dangling there. Spiderman!? And then it was zipped away. Definitely, Spider something.

Mendez gave chase and left Leon gasping on the floor. He exploded out the window and was gone. It tinkled musically as glass fell.

The silence was split by the ragged breathing done by the man left behind.

Whoever they were, he owed them a VERY big thank you.

There had been about ten feet of legs dangling there so he was assuming female. Additionally, who went roof dangling in a dress? The face had been brief and only visible to the nose. But it was setting off alarm bells in his head. Where had he seen it?

Leon rolled to his feet, gasping.

The crunch hadn't been him. It had been sniper rifle on his back.

Concerned, Leon hefted it. The scope was trash. So much for long distance protection. He put his eye to it and discovered he could still, sort of, see through it. Annoyed, he swung it up on his back and cleared into the hallway again.

The house was empty. He searched all over it looking for anything. There were logs in the living area with information about Los Illuminados. It went in to details about the creation of the cult and their purpose. It kept referencing ascension and the divine ingestion of beings. Whatever the hell that meant.

He used his communicator to snap photos and upload the information to Hunnigan.

The front door opened to a narrow yard. A well sat off to one side but based on the smell, he was betting he wasn't going to be able to get a fresh drink of water there. He was STARVING. Seriously, he needed some grub. But you couldn't pay him to eat anything that was available in this hell hole.

Leon moved into the tiny yard and turned toward the one path that waited.

It led him down through the trees and to another gate. It was barred and blocked. Putting his shoulder into it, Leon lifted the crossbar and set it on the ground. When he eased open the gate, he found himself back in the heart of the village. He could hear mooing cows and clucking chickens. He could hear the fire still crackling and the murmur of voices.

He crossed through the quiet barn and met the eyes of a bovine face chewing cud. He patted its flank and whispered, "Shh. Bessie. Don't make a sound, ok? I'd tell you a joke about a cow…but I bet I'd butcher it…bum psh."

There. He'd given it a bad pun. It was a gift. Now they were friends. Sorta.

Holding his Magnum at the ready, Leon eased around the barn door and eyed the distance to the church. It was right there. He was close. If he could just create another distraction, he could slip right in mostly unnoticed.

He glanced at Bessie the cow. She eyed him with her lolling eyes. "You want to be free girl?"

She mooed at him. He took that as a yes. He unhooked her lead from the stall door and led her out into the hay. When she was free of the stall, he smacked her rump as hard as he could. She let out a moo like a bleat of pissed off rage. And she started running.

Run free, Bessie, Leon thought, thanks for the help.

He heard the towns folk shouting and giving chase to her. When the coast felt clear, he peeped around the edge of the barn and hurried to the door with the matching bug insignia on it. Pulling the key from his pocket, he opened the door and stepped inside.

He left it unlocked behind him. Just…in case Jlil came this way.

There was no Ashley on the other side. There was nothing but a table and a typewriter.

Amused, he poked at a key. It clacked. Thinking about it, Leon poked a few more keys. The message said: I unlocked the door. Who's the master now?

Hopefully, Jill would see the message if she came this way. Maybe she'd know he was ok. Maybe she'd know to keep pushing forward. He was worried about her. And it made him a little nervous to keep going on without her.

Leon cleared as he went, easing into an empty room with a ladder.

Amused, he climbed down the ladder and found himself in a small cave. It was damp. It was lit by torches. It was making dripping sounds. There was only one way to go. So he moved slowly through the serpentine cavern.

After a few minutes, he was face to face with another ladder leading up.

Feeling a pattern here, Leon climbed up. He cleared the room before he finished and exited into a small hut. Guard house again, clearly. This one had a few broken crates on the ground and a garden snake slithering around the floor.

He glanced through the small window to see a graveyard beyond. It was filled with headstones that were in great shape, in awful shape, and pretty much nothing but rubble. There didn't appear to be a single threat outside waiting for him.

Appearances were often deceiving. As he started up the path beside the headstones, he glimpsed the massive church atop the rise. "BOOM." The shout startled a group of crows that cawed angrily as they took flight.

He probably shouldn't have shouted. But he was thrilled to have found it. It was gothic revival and had beautiful stained glass windows surrounded by pretty brown stone. The slanted roof was a perfect A-frame. A crow called loudly where it rested on the black shingles.

Leon crept along the path. He eased up the stairs and grabbed the door handle and -

Nothing.

It was locked.

Of course, it was locked.

Naturally.

It wasn't going to be that easy right? No way.

Always the fucking hard way with stuff like this. Never could be simple. He glanced around to see if there was any chance of getting in another way. He went around the back of the church and that was a dead end too.

Annoyed, he veered down the side path that ran round the far side of the cliff. A few hastily assembled wooden walkways were clinging along the cliff, inviting you to walk down their rickety slats and tempt the fates to not have a stiff breeze blow you out into the great beyond.

"Why the fuck not?" He mused and started down them. They creaked and groaned with each step. He had to gently leap a few times to avoid plummeting into the abyss. He was scared enough by the exposure and the tensile strength of the rotting boards under his feet that he couldn't even find a decent pun to amuse himself.

A small door opened into a small circular area of mud. Wooden walls were built up all around it and three small outhouses waited amongst the mud. He could hear…something. Something was making a snarfling, growling? Grunting. Something was making noises somewhere close by.

Whisper quiet, Leon moved across to the other side of the exposed area and passed under an upswung gate comprised of rugged cut tree trunks. There was a set of stairs to his right but a quick check showed the door at the base locked tight. So, Leon chose door number two and emerged into another stretch of forest.

The lack of opposition he'd encountered so far was starting to unnerve him. There was a path leading up and a path leading down toward the lake. Leon went up, moving swiftly but carefully. At the top of the rise, he was granted the most breathtaking view of the lake and the shore beyond. The cool fall air tickled his face, shimmering with the promise of the storm that grumbled behind the dirty grey clouds.

The lake shimmered, lovely and pure. He used his binoculars to see the waiting shore beyond. There was a boat ramp and a house to one side of the far shore. The boat that apparently went with it was idling in the middle of the lake. Two men were dumping the body of a third into the water.

It was the second cop that had escorted him to the village.

Leon shook his head in sympathy as they dumped his body overboard and motored away.

"Poor guy. Should have come with me."

Leon moved back down the rise and waited until the two men who'd dumped the body left through the gate he'd come from. He went down the other path and climbed into the small motorboat. It was crude but efficient. The motor kicked up just fine when he pulled the ripcord.

He dropped the hammer on it and gusted across the water with a swirl of sound and mist. The wind tossed his hair and relaxed him. He loved a good sail. When this was done, he was going out on the boat for a week. Maybe Jill liked to sail.

His mind said: You taking Jill sailing now? You want her to ride on your boat with you?

No. Honestly, he wanted her to ride on his cock.

But that seemed a rather rude thing to ask someone to do. So it was best if he didn't phrase it QUITE that way. The boat ride might soften her up so she'd be more open to him. Open…to his plunging dick between her legs.

He slapped his face to snap himself out of it. Keep it together, Kennedy, he cautioned himself, finish the fucking mission.

The fucking….mission. He was going to make it his mission to fuck Jill Valentine, that was for sure.

And now he laughed. Because he was all kinds of stupid today and it was making him half horny as hell, half punny as hell. Put together…what did you get? And he muttered, "Porny." And made himself, possibly, chuckle. He might have called it a giggle. But only girls did that.

He was so busy thinking of her beneath him and his face between her thighs that he wasn't even paying attention. A long, fat, dark shadow moved under the water beneath him. He whistled a little as the speed boat zipped over the pristine water.

And then?

Well, the world erupted all around him. The boat was tossed up in the air by a geyser of water. He gripped, he held on, and the worlds biggest…monster fish?...exploded out of the water in front of him. He'd faced off once against the words biggest alligator…or potentially a crocodile…he'd never really figured out which. This had a body like one…sorta. It was bloated in the middle and scaly. It was lumpy and bumpy and had a massive tail that whipped at the boat and tried to toss him into the water to become a bloody burst.

It opened its mouth and let out a roar so loud, so intense, and so cacophonous that it rippled the water and tossed the air like a hurricane around him. It had a thousand teeth in the semicircle of its disgusting mouth. He swung the sniper rifle up from the floor of the boat and it went down and under, gusting a massive wave at the boat that spun it out and away and nearly capsized it.

The anchor of the boat shook loose, sinking into the water and then, because Jill was gone and his luck had gone with her, the anchor caught on the back of the massive gator and imbedded. Leon grabbed the edges of the boat and whispered, "Holy fuck."

And the gator took him waterskiing in his boat. The anchor held, the boat surged forward, and he was being yanked around the lake by the speed and agility of the worlds biggest alligator mutant…thing. It tossed the boat around in the water like it was nothing.

There was a fishing harpoon on the floor of the boat beside him. Leon gripped it, holding the whipping side of the boat. The enormous beast was slinging his poor boat around like a dog with a bone. Leon waited, holding on. The sniper rifle was banging around in the boat.

Leon saw it coming. He saw the rotted chunks of tree jutting out the water. He grabbed the motor guide lever and jerked. The boat buzzed uselessly, the boat cocked, and it glanced off the side of the tree. The boat shot up in the air, Leon was jiggled loose, and he made a desperate grab for the edge.

It didn't work. And it didn't matter.

He went into the dark water with a gasp of cold. It seized around his lungs and stole his breath. It was freezing. It was frigid. He was already swimming desperately for the boat before he even finished plunging into the bone numbing depths of it.

The beast was coming. He could hear it chugging like mad through the water toward him. With a final desperate push of speed and a cry of fear, he vaulted himself up into the boat and rolled. It roared. It shook the water and the world as it roared. And it rose above him in the boat like a leviathan rising from the depths of the sea.

Leon let out a terrified shout and grabbed the harpoon. His body turned, it rolled, and he just…threw it. Leon sounded his battle cry and cut it loose with every muscle in his body. He turned his whole hip and arm and shoulder into it. He chucked that harpoon like Captain Ahab trying to take down his literal nemesis Moby Dick.

It imbedded in the roof of that roaring mouth. Blood spewed in a volcanic eruption. Leon was bathed in it from head to toe. It soaked him in a fine, warm, red blanket. The beast came down at the boat, clipped the side of it as it fell, and plummeted down into the water. The anchor from the boat spun down into the dark after it.

Leon felt it wrap at his ankle and start pulling. "Oh, god!"

He barely shouted it and the damn thing vice gripped around his leg and jerked him to the edge of the boat. Terrified, grunting with the pain of his leg being squeezed like an icy pop on a hot day, Leon tried to untangle his leg from the rope. But it kept pulling. And if he didn't get it off, he was going to go DOWN with that fucking beast and die there, choking on his own utter stupidity.

His hand grabbed for the hatchet at his back. He jerked it off his belt and brought it down on the strangling rope. His foot was numb and he was slowly going over the side of the boat. A final downward swing, a shout of fear and strength, and he severed the hunk around his leg from the rest of the rope.

It frazzled, tore, and spilled down into the waiting dark with the beast it was stuck to.

Leon flopped back in the boat, gasping. Shaking, horrified, he grabbed the lever of the motor and ripped it to a start with the cord. He guided the boat to the far shore, trembling. He was freezing. He was tired. He was starving. He didn't feel funny anymore. He felt like shit. He was having the worst Thanksgiving ever.

He couldn't find a single thing to give thanks for.

The boat puttered up to the dock and he secured it to the post with some twine dangling there. He stumbled up the wooden slats and staggered in the mud. His head spun, the world tilted. And the water? It rushed around his ankles.

The monster belly flopped out of the water after him, throwing a tidal wave up that knocked him to his face in the mud. Leon swung the sniper rifle, more instinct than actual thought. It settled on his shoulder and he didn't even aim. He just pulled the trigger until the damn gun clicked empty. The echo of bullets was loud across the quiet valley.

The monster flopped back to the ground, shaking it like an earthquake. It landed on the sand beside him. His body bounced with the impact. It was two feet away. He felt its stagnant breath ruffle his hair as it blew out a final breath and slipped back down the embankment into the water on a smear of gushing blood. The water around it went pink with it. It looked like the beginnings of cotton candy forming in the water.

His was going to be sick. The nausea climbed up his throat and had him rolling to his hands and knees. He staggered up the beach, gasping. It was like being drunker than shit and waiting to ralph. He grabbed the handle of the house on the shore and twisted.

It spilled open and he went to his hands and knees on the floor. He actually screamed, just once, as pain lanced and clenched his guts. He kicked the door closed behind him and fell to his side on the floor. The pain erupted through him, it burned, it churned. It felt like his bones and his blood were fusing and trying to turn into steel spikes inside his body. His back bowed, his body flopped.

He kept on screaming. It was the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life. It was like being burned alive from the inside out.

Leon thrashed, he tried to crawl and fell on his face. Cool hands were on his face. And one settled over his mouth to stop the screaming.

He didn't stop. He just did it into that hand.

He kept on screaming until the darkness grabbed its claws into his guts and ripped them from his skin in a burst of blood and pain. His spine cracked in half, his face erupted in a fountain of blood, his skin burst like a water balloon.

And he died on the floor of that house as the pain became his mistress and raped him raw to die in a pool of his own blood.


	6. OB5

_**A/N:** Let's remember as we read here, this story is entirely meant to be a softer version of 4. Not heavy. Not hard to read. I'm not trying to rebrand Kennedy or defy the game (the game was super fun. It was also humanly impossible for him to do all of what he did without dying. So I poke fun at it here. Great game. Kennedy though just a dude. Just a man. I don't make him a super hero. It's not fun to write him that way). But - for purest that enjoy the game that way - this may not be where the wind blows you. He's softer here, sweeter, funnier - simpler. Young. And there's the girl. The girl. She's the change in the wind. She's the difference. But she may not be for those who want a harder Leon Kennedy._

* * *

 **V: MONSTROSITY**

* * *

" _ **There are no heroes...in life, the monsters win."**_

― _**George R.R. Martin**_

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain – 2004**

" _Please, god, don't!" She didn't care. She didn't. She held him down as she raped his body. He gasped. He pushed. She bled him and ripped her claws down his chest to spill his blood._

" _Give me your SOUL!"_

 _She had it. Didn't she know she already had it? She had his fucking soul. She wasn't going to get any more. His flesh was EMPTY. He wept, groaning, and she rode his body as she buried her face in his chest…and chewed out his heart._

 _From within the open cavity, the beast emerged, tearing itself from the confines of its mortal restraints to feast on the flesh of the living. He was STILL ALIVE. And the pain spilled out of his mouth in a bubbling roll of blood._

He wasn't dead. He wasn't.

Leon came awake with a desperate shout. It was muffled by the hand over his mouth. In the dark cabin, a small lantern flickered on the floor beside them. It cast her face in shifting light, making the blue of her eyes silver. She murmured, "Shhh. Leon…shhh. Oh my god, you're ok. Oh my god…I couldn't get down that fucking mountain fast enough. I saw it…I saw you on that boat. If could have gotten down there, I'd have shown you the path around without crossing the fucking lake. I'm so sorry."

She slid her hand off his mouth. She was trembling. Leon rasped, hoarsely, "Jill…I'm sick. Or dying. Or something."

Her eyes trembled with tears. She stroked his face. "I know. I saw. I came in…you were screaming."

She said the word screaming in a way he'd never heard it before. Like it should have been in all caps. Like it was the most horrible thing she'd ever heard. "Wait here for me, Leon. I'll find the answers. I'll find the cure. I'll find it."

He lifted his hand and cupped her face. She looked so beautiful in the soft lighting. Like an angel or a pixie or something. He had to touch her…just a little. "Jill…I feel ok now. I feel great actually. I don't know what happened. Maybe it was just stress and exhaustion and hunger. Maybe it's not. But I can't just hide out here and wait for you to save me. If I'm infected with something or not…I have to save Ashley Graham. She's the priority."

Jill could feel the echo of the fear around her. It beat in her blood like a drum. So close. He'd been almost dead three times while he was in that water. It was the fourth time he'd nearly died since she'd been with him. He was courting death like a well paid whore. He was either the luckiest son of a bitch that ever lived or the unluckiest. It was hard to figure out which.

She held his gaze. Her thumb was stroking his cheek. "You feel great?"

"I do. Apparently, I needed some sleep."

"…it's been six hours since you went down, Leon. SIX HOURS. I thought you were going to die. You kept tossing and shouting. I had to straddle you and hold you down at one point."

The light flickered in his eyes…and he glanced at her mouth. His mind turned that comment dirty in about two seconds. He queried, a little hoarsely, "Yeah? How'd that go?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You lecher. You scared the piss out of me and, yet you still go right for the sex stuff the second you open those beautiful eyes."

His chest was still tight. Had he swallowed water when he went down? He shifted and realized it wasn't the water at all. It was her. She made his chest tight looking at her.

He was fine. He felt great. But he hadn't moved off her lap where he was half lying. She hadn't asked him to move either. They stayed right where they were…looking at each other.

Softly, he said, "I'm sorry I scared you."

Jill shook her head. She made a little sound that startled them both. It sounded a little…like a sob. Concerned, he drew her down to him. She made that sound again and put her face in his neck. Her arms shifted, his shifted…and they were hugging.

It was a good hug. It felt like a good hug should feel. It was tight and full bodied. They ended up sitting there on the floor holding each other. If she'd pulled down his pants and put her mouth on his dick, it wouldn't have meant more to him.

She said, softly, "You trying to make me care about you, Leon Kennedy?"

"Not trying," His voice was a little hoarse which healed something in her to hear it, "But how's that workin out for ya?"

"You stuffed me in a closet and got yourself kidnapped."

"That's the rumor."

"Why?"

He leaned back. Her fingers tunneled into the back of his hair. His hands were stroking up and down her back under his jacket she was wearing. "I knew you'd find your way back to me. I couldn't let them have you. You're the only good luck I've had in ages, Jill. If the bad guys get you? They'll win."

Jill eyed him in the shifting light. Thunder grumbled outside the house. She looked at his mouth again. Yeah, he thought, they needed to figure out how to do this without THAT getting in the way. Kissing would help NO ONE. NOT KISSING was the only thing keeping them remotely professional right now.

He rose and she helped him. Smiling, he patted her arm. "I'm fine. Really. Maybe it was just massive exhaustion. Any chance you found some food?"

"Oh!" Jill reached into his coat pocket and handed him a shiny red apple. "I found an orchard. On the other side of the lake and up the rise. I figured…red was probably your color."

He eyed her and took the apple. A sharp snap put the tangy fruit into his mouth and he figured, maybe, he'd never eaten anything better. With a little moan of pleasure, he leaned on the wall to munch it. "Why red?"

"I dunno. You just seem like the type of guy to like bright colors. Some guys are blue, some guys are red. You're red."

He wasn't entirely sure that part was true. He'd been looking at her in blue for quite some time. He was feeling PARTICULARLY partial to blue.

"Speaking of red," He finished the apple and dropped the core onto the ground, "There's a woman in red running around here somewhere. I had a run in with the Big Cheese – she's the only reason he didn't finish me off. You seen her by chance?"

Jill shook her head, curious. "I did get some information on Saddler. Apparently, the Lord part of the title isn't far off. Intel I dug up on him suggests ties back to the Spanish monarchy. The Castilian dynasty shows connections between The House of Habsburg and Charles the Second. They called him the Bewitched. He was one of the most ineffectual rulers in history. He died without heirs but it was speculated he had bastards. According to source information, the Saddler family draws from that line of bastards via English roots."

Leon snorted a little, "So, he's not any more a Lord than I am."

"Essentially. I can't find out what he's up to in the mines. But it's suggesting paramilitary in nature. My guess? He's arming his men with whatever shit we've been seeing in the village. The question is why."

They moved to the door of the house. Jill was looking out the window into the dark and the pouring rain. "You want to wait out the storm?"

He glanced at her face and wanted to. He wanted to pick her up and set her down on the little table in the corner of the room and spend the new few hours finding out how her mouth tasted. But he knew that wouldn't help either of them.

And it would complicate things.

He shook his head a little. "We should get moving. On the off chance he infected me with something, we don't know how long I have. And if he has Ashley? God knows what he's doing with her."

His communicator signaled and he heard Hunnigan in his ear, "Leon! Are you trying to give me apoplexy?"

He laughed, shaking his head a little. "I'm fine. I went down after a rough boat ride. There's something happening with me. I don't know what yet. But I feel fine now. I'm ready to get this show on the road."

"Good. Hurry. You need to get to that church."

"Right. I'm on it."

Hunnigan signed off and Leon turned to find Jill watching him. He lifted his brow at her. "What?"

"She seems like a bitch to me. She didn't even ask if you were alright."

"She's my handler, Jill, not my friend."

Jill shook her head. "Here. This was on the table."

She was holding a note…and a flashbang grenade. Leon lifted his brows and took them. He palmed the grenade and glanced down at the note.

It was a pretty and looping scrawl:

 _Leon –_

 _You'll find what answers you seek beyond the falls. Additionally, they've released El Gigante. I'm sorry. I don't know how to help you with that. You're on your own. Disable the parasite. It's all you can do. As for what's happening in your body…I'd help you if I could. But I can't. Good luck._

There was a tiny kiss mark on the paper in red.

Leon lifted his eyes to Jill. What was that look on her face? She shook her head and stepped around him.

Was she irritated with him? Why? He had NO IDEA who'd left this note. What was the problem here? His eyes shifted to the kiss mark. Clearly, the benefactor was female. And most likely the woman in red he'd seen. But he didn't KNOW HER. He wasn't working with her.

What the issue here?

And, because he occasionally had epiphanies in his stupid brain, he took two steps and figured it out.

Jill Valentine was jealous.

Of a piece of paper.

Of a kiss on a piece of paper.

His cold stomach warmed. His mouth turned up into a big grin. She had her back to him and couldn't see it. And he shook his head as she eased open the door to peek outside.

The sniper rifle was M.I.A. But his Magnum was happily tucked into his shoulder holster. He hooked the flashbang on his belt.

Jill closed the door to the cabin and moved to look out the far window. She could ALMOST see the top of the rise from here. It was so dark and the weather was absolute shit. The torrential rain and lightning was punctuated with rolling thunder and inky dark skies. A lost cause to try to scout ahead.

It was utter crap soup outside the cabin. A total shit show.

Kinda like what was looping around in her guts.

Irritated by the jealousy, over nothing, Jill shook her head and checked her ammo. She had plenty for the machine gun still. She knew he was running low or totally out of rounds for his Magnum. So they needed to do some scavenging for supplies.

Leon said, glancing out the door into the rain. "This is the worst Thanksgiving…ever. It's continuous feedings of humble pie. No turkey. Just slices of shit served up steaming and rotten."

Jill laughed a little and said, "You know what my favorite pie is on Thanksgiving?"

Leon glanced up the curving rise toward the top of the mountain range. It was the only way out of this valley where the lake was. Going back wasn't an option. He wouldn't cross that fucking lake again if you paid him to do it. "Hmm? Apple?"

"Pun-kin."

He stopped and blinked.

And Jill said, "….bum psh."

He closed the door and turned back to her. She grinned at him and looked a little sheepish. "Sorry. Sorry. No time for bad puns. I do that sometimes…sorry."

He moved toward her and wasn't even aware he was doing it. Jill laughed a little, "I'm sorry. I'll focus on the mission. Promise."

Leon shook his head and looped one arm around her waist. The other slid over her face to cup it. His fingers slid over the back of her head and tilted it up to him. Jill made some sound and her hands curved over his biceps.

Yep, he thought, that's what did it. A fucking pun.

She didn't need any more encouragement. His face went down and hers came up. Their cheeks aligned with each other. Their breathing was thick and heavy. Her feet came off the floor as he picked her up against him. He pressed her into him like he'd possibly find pumpkin pie and truth inside her.

Jill's hands slid over his neck and fisted in his hair. She made a small moan and opened her lips. They were both breathing heavy. He pressed her into the wall and tried to kill them both with the want of it. He wanted to kiss her like he was dying for it.

She wanted to kiss him like she was begging for it.

It stole their breath as they clung to each other with their mouths a breath apart. Close the distance, she thought, close it and kiss me. But neither did. They just felt the horrible, needy hammer of their hearts against each other's chests.

Absolutely the wrong time to kiss her. All kinds of wrong. Stupid. They were in so much danger that they'd probably be dead before the night was over. But he didn't care. Because she'd punned and made him insane for her.

Her hands tried to find him under the tight shirt. She realized it must have been bound to his belt or something as she couldn't even get it to tug free of his pants. Annoyed, Jill stuck her fingers under the sleeves instead to grip those impossibly hard arms.

He dropped his head like he'd seal their mouths and the biggest boom of thunder they'd ever heard went off and shook the house around them. It worked. It broke the spell.

They broke apart, gasping. And his hand slid down her chest to lie flat over her racing heart.

She echoed it, breathing.

He brushed their noses together, holding her fevered gaze.

Jill lowered her other hand and brushed it over his body. Leon made a small sound like a desperate laugh and let her go. She leaned on the wall, breathing and shaking a little.

He shot his hands through his hair and yanked. It forced pain into his head and cooled down his raging blood. He stacked his hands behind his head and pulled, stretching his neck and pacing a little.

Jill kept standing there, one hand on her throat, the other on her belly to calm it.

She finally said, "Ok. So…there's that happening."

"Yeah."

"Yeah. So, we just…don't let it affect the mission."

He lifted a brow at her.

She laughed a little, desperately, Her face was flushed. Her body was shaking. But what did he want here? Someone had to be the grown up. Right? "You have a better solution?"

Leon shook his head and looked at her mouth. She covered it and shook her head. "No. Don't. We'll never get out of this cabin if you start that again."

He sighed and turned away from her. "I don't know if I care. I want to give a shit about what we're doing here, Jill. But I want to see you naked. I want to put my mouth all over you. I want to kiss you. I don't know how to get that out of my head and focus here."

Jill made a small sound. "So, talking like that? Not helping."

Hoarsely, he laughed and rubbed his face. "Right. Not helping. Also? I could be dead soon. Or turn into a fucking monster. Nothing like drilling you on the table there and turning into a monster on top of you. I wouldn't even have to eat you euphemistically. I'd literally do it."

Jill moved away from the wall. He went stiff, in more ways than one, as her arms slid around his waist and she pressed herself into him from behind. Her hands slid up his forearms and tugged his wrists to bring his hands off his face. She joined their hands, spilled their fingers together, and pressed them both to his chest. She whispered, "You won't turn. I won't let you…Leon…I want to kiss you too. I think about it ALL the time. We can't. It will make things worse…harder…"

Harder. HA. Oy. Harder. He couldn't BE any harder. He laughed hoarsely and she did too, hugging him.

She wasn't just the master of unlocking. She was the master of hugging too.

It was a good fucking hug.

She put her cheek against the smooth leather of his shoulder holster. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. They stood for a long moment, just hugging.

Finally, he said, "Ok. Ok. Let's leave the elephant in the room for now and do this. Everything else? That can be handled later."

They separated with regret. He wanted to throw her down on the table and ride her until she bucked and screamed and begged. Instead? He eased open the door and drew his Magnum, glancing out into the rain.

Jill lingered, feeling something she hadn't in a long time. It was the urge to abandon a mission and let someone else finish it. She had a bad feeling. She had a feeling that if they kept going down this path, something awful was going to happen to one of them. Was she concerned for herself?

No. So far, she'd been lucky. She'd been fairly predictably safe. Leon Kennedy? He was a MAGNET for danger. Wherever he went, danger followed his fantastic ass like a pied piper. She couldn't blame it. Seriously. That ass? She'd follow it into hell dancing while Rome burned.

Which was…kinda embarrassing. And mostly a little insane.

But there it was.

He started to ease out and she grabbed his arm above the elbow and pulled him back. She pushed the door closed and shoved him against it. Her hands curled around his arms and she lowered her chin to her chest to breathe for a minute.

He didn't touch her. Leon stood, very, still. Because he wanted to touch her. And it was messy. And it was bad. It was just really bad.

Jill spoke, finally, and softly, "We could…turn back."

He froze. The room was awash with the sound of rain and thunder. Someone was breathing fast and hard. It was probably him. Maybe it was her. It didn't matter.

He mused, "I seem like the type that turns back to you?"

She didn't raise her head. She just shook it a little. "We could get the BSAA and USSTRATCOM to drop agents on the ground here, Leon. We could abort and let them send in the cavalry. We don't know how deep or wide this conspiracy goes but we know it's bigger than just a little kidnapping and espionage here. Someone is pulling the strings over thousands of people here. It's Raccoon City big. It's beyond what two people can do."

He tilted his head, looking at her down turned face. "You scared?"

"Yeah," She laughed, mirthlessly, "Yeah I am. Because I'm not fucking stupid? I'm scared. But not for me."

So, he touched her anyway. He grabbed her chin to lift her face to him. "Don't be scared for me, Jill. I've been through worse, I promise you. But if you need to stay…if you need to wait…then stay. I won't hold it against you."

Jill shook her head, breathing a little, "I'll be fine. I'm fine. Forget it, ok? Just…let's go."

She let go of his arms. Leon kept his eyes on her face, volleying them back and forth to see what she was hiding here. "What? We don't have time for games here, Jill. So out with it."

"I'm doubting myself. I don't do that. Ever. That's entirely your fault. And entirely why I don't bother to touch men. Especially ones I work with."

It shivered a little around them. He mused, "Not even Chris Redfield?"

"No. Not even. I haven't bothered with a lover in several years. One – there was no time for that. Two – I wasn't interested. It takes a helluva thing, Leon, to get me interested."

"You interested in me?"

Jill rolled her eyes a little. "I'd say the groping and panting and near kissing that just happened should clear up any confusion on that."

"Actually it just makes it more confusing. Kissing can be utterly fucking simple, Jill." Leon rubbed his thumb over her mouth and let her go. She retreated, shivering a little. "I'm not trying to get in your pants here, Jill."

She held his gaze.

"…ok. I'm trying to get in your pants. A little. But not here. Not now. I'll keep my hands to myself. I meant to before…you just…punned. So, I lost it a little."

She cocked her eyebrows into her hair. "I…punned?"

"Yeah. You punned." He shrugged, looking a little sheepish, and then turned back to the door, "I do that too. It's kinda my thing. So…I won't touch you again. Ok? No more confusion. Just…mission."

Jill didn't know why. But for some reason, that answer hurt her feelings.

It was the right answer.

It was the wrong time.

And she wanted to grab him and throw him against the door and rape his mouth.

Sighing with confusion, she stepped up behind him. She said, "You should take your coat back. It's colder than a well digger's ass out there."

"I'm fine. Trust me. Keep it." He held her gaze for a moment. "We ok here?"

"We're ok." They weren't. She wanted to stick her hand in his pants and molest him. They weren't really ok. "Ready?"

"Let's do it, kid."

Oh, lord. She wondered if she'd ever stop thinking of him naked. Not when he said stuff like that. Let's do it. Seriously? With a sigh, she nodded.

He nodded off to three and they cleared high and low into the rain.

She wasn't wrong, he thought as they moved through the pouring rain and up the path toward the far gate. It was…colder than a well digger's ass. His breath fogged out. The rain hit his fevered skin and chilled immediately. The blood that pumped in his groin for her started to recede.

What had she been saying back there? She cared about him enough it was affecting the mission. Well, that cut both ways there. But it didn't have to. They were both professionals. They could set aside their hormones and do the damn job.

Surely.

At the top of the rise, he froze. She bumped into his back. The man walking toward them was shaking and jerking like he was having a seizure. Jill glanced at Leon who shrugged. They lifted their guns – and the man's head…erupted. It burst open like a water balloon on hot pavement. Just POP and tentacles erupted where it had been plus lumpy bulbous dripping muscle…and eyes. Two eyes that bulged and dangled from elongated bundles of nerves. They were…disgusting. For lack of a better word.

Jill shot the thing while he was too busy staring at it. She just opened fire on it. The rounds peppered its nasty…face. It jerked and staggered but didn't go down. And it wasn't alone.

Because three more were coming around the corner to join it.

Leon shot the closest one to them in one dangling eye. It fell to its face on the ground but kept throwing those massive tentacles around to try to whip them. Jill backed up and grabbed his holster to pull him with her.

She said, "What…the fuck?"

"Right? I don't know wh—wait." He pulled the flashbang off his belt. There were five of them now and they were happily walking like Jason Voorhees, in no particular hurry to catch his victim. They knew who the victor of this battle was going to be.

Or did they?

Leon pulled the pin, counted to three, and threw the damn flash bang at them.

He grabbed Jill and turned her into his body. His arms shielded her head.

And the world went bright white, like lightning had struck beside them, or the sun had burst through the black clouds to flash on their faces. Her fingers curled into his holster.

When there was nothing but rain and the echo of sound across the valley, Jill eased around his arm to look. Her eyes flew wide. She laughed a little, "It worked! It worked! Why? How? It WORKED. How did you know!?"

She turned her face up to him.

And the rain was dripping off his nose.

He let go of her arms and stepped back. She could taste her heart beating. They had to better than this. Had to. It was ridiculous to crave something so much when it was nothing but trouble.

He coughed and turned, clearing his throat. "Uh…honestly? It was the note. Why leave the flashbang there like that? The writer knew we'd need it."

She looked at his profile as he studied the bodies on the ground. They were all mushy burst pieces from the neck up. The rain was washing away all the blood. Why? The flashbang was innocuous for the most part. Why did it kill the things erupted from their head? What had the note said?

Parasites.

Leon tilted his head in the rain. Jill was poking her boot at one of their bodies. He followed her up the rise with his Magnum loose in his hands and aimed at the ground but ready. She eased the door opened at the rise and they cleared through to the other side.

The rushing water was so loud here it echoed across the valley. It was clearly a dam for the waterfall that waited atop the rise. They looked down into the darkness as they moved across the platforms to the other side. There was little there but a steep drop to the ground below and a dangling heavy braided rope.

Jill lifted her brows at him. Leon looked down into the heavily pouring water beneath them. He could see floating platforms and a walkway that led beyond the waterfall. Clearly the cave beyond the waterfall was what the note had meant. Something waits beyond the falls.

How to stop the water and get to it?

The first part of the problem involved in getting down the side of the mountain.

He said, "You good with rappelling?"

Jill nodded and swung the machine gun to her back.

She muttered, "To climb down this mountain, we need to be in peak condition."

He blinked. She glanced up at him and…blushed. His belly rolled for her. Damn it. This was not getting easier here. So, instead of grabbing her in the pouring rain and kissing her stupid, he said, "I used to do rock climbing when I was younger…but I was a lot boulder back then."

Jill held his look drolly.

He murmured, "Bum psh."

And she laughed. She just laughed. She said, "What a pair of goofs we are. Seriously. Want to cut sexual tension? Toss out a bad pun."

"Nope. Doesn't work for me." Leon chuckled as he gripped the rope and looped it around one hand, "Apparently, that makes me horny."

Jill watched him ease over the side of the rock wall. "You might be a freak, Leon Kennedy."

"Most likely. You sure you want to stick with me?"

He looked like a walking wet dream in the pouring rain. Half dangling off the rock wall, his arms were bulged with muscle. The damn shirt he wore stuck to him like glue. And she'd been right all along…not an ounce of fat on him. Deadpan, Jill quipped, "I made a really cheesy pun about quesadillas the other day."

He held her look. She didn't blink. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Finally, he snorted, grinned, and started down the mountain wall.

Jill chuckled a little and started down after him.

Leon leapt off and scanned the area. It appeared empty. It was incredibly loud at the base of the falls here. There was the foamy toss water near the mouth of the cave he could barely glimpse beyond the rushing falls. Where water struck water in a great cascade, sprays of mist were thrown into the air to fleck the skin.

Jill was three quarters down the mountain and slipped. He watched it happen. He panicked, she panicked, the god damn rope frayed and snapped – a handful of seconds that was a lifetime. She grabbed for the rock, lost her grip, and down she came.

Leon dropped to one knee and caught her. Like…some kind of white knight or something. He just caught her as she fell into his arms. She laughed a little, turning her face to him.

"My hero."

He grinned a little. "I have my moments. You scared ten years off me though. I can't even pun right now."

Jill laughed and shuddered, "That scares me to death. The idea of falling to my death. I'd rather go ANY way but that, you know? Like falling backward in your chair…until you die. Awful."

Leon helped her to her feet. "I want let you fall to your death, Jill Valentine. I promise."

Jill held his hand longer than she should before she let it go. "There's a going down joke in there somewhere, Kennedy. But in the interest of staying friendly, I'm going to let it go."

"You already let go, clearly, it's why you fell."

She smacked his arm and moved passed him while he chuckled.

There was a small watchtower to one side of the path they were on. Jill climbed up it and scanned the area surrounding the falls. There was literally nothing but water, a few platforms, and the cave that waited. The only way forward was through that cave. The water was rushing crushingly fast from the top of the falls to the walkway beneath. There was no getting through there without diverting it.

Leon moved across the narrow platforms, using the unsteady surface of crates as makeshift supports as he went. He bypassed he middle walkway and moved to the other side. Jill waited near the walkway as he went.

She watched him climb the ladder on the far side. He was messing with something. He gave her a wink and thumbs up and pulled a lever. There was a metallic grind and the steel funnel above her shifted. She stepped back to avoid behind hit with water and watched it shift, like train tracks, to allocate the reception of the water to an alternative path.

The rushing sound minimized as the adjacent chute accepted the new burst of liquid power. And the waterfall abated, coming to a dripping stop. She opened her mouth to shout something punny and stupid and there was a shout of guttural Spanish behind her.

The path from the broken rope was six deep with men rushing toward her. A path had opened along the rock wall they'd climbed down. More began to move out of the cave opening revealed when the waterfall had stopped.

Jill turned toward where Leon had gone and started leaping. He covered her, picking off men with the Magnum as they gave chase. She reached the far side and turned back to spray them with her machine gun.

The first one to make it over to them was wielding a pitchfork. Leon ducked under the swipe of it, came up under his arms in a flourish, and threw him up and over his back. The man went down, the pitchfork was jerked from his hands, and impaled him straight through the face.

The next one was spitted in midjump. It caught him in the sternum and Leon used it to dump him over the side of the falls. He went spinning into the dark shouting.

Jill kept spraying. When her magazine was empty, Leon covered her with the pitchfork. He spared his Magnum rounds and used sheer force and skill to drive them back one at time. When one jumped, he kicked him and the impact sent him face down into the water. The water did the rest, rushing him over the side.

Jill nodded and moved up beside him.

She waited for the first one to pick her and ducked under his reaching hands. She came up under him, put her shoulder into him, and threw him over her back. He hit the ground, she grabbed his arm and jerked, spilling him to his face and breaking his arm at the shoulder. As he screamed, she over rotated him and drove her boot into the back of his skull.

Leon had backed up to the edge of the falls. A dangerous ploy but an effective one.

He braced. He waited. As they rushed him, he spun, he ducked, and he pushed. He tossed one up over his shoulders, spun back, and back kicked it into the dark below. The one rushing him from the front was granted a rather beautiful axe kick to the face that put him on the ground. Jill watched Leon grab him by the seat of his pants and his hair and just sorta throw him off the edge.

She was already running toward him as the third one grabbed him and shoved him toward the edge. Terrified, Jill threw herself into a cartwheel and spun low to take his feet. The man staggered and Leon executed a push kick that sent him spiraling into the dark.

Impressed, they eyed each other.

Jill watched him shift from one foot to the other as he readied himself for the next wave of them.

She'd read that too. That he was skilled in hand to hand. She'd read it. She was seeing it now. They said he was better than her. She doubted it. She'd trained with some of the best in the world.

But, admittedly, his technique was fucking flawless.

The first two that got to her were met with a tornado kick. She did a full 360 roundhouse on them that scattered them like bowling pins. She grabbed the first of the two as she settled back and threw herself to her back to drive her boots into him and launch him up and out.

The second one grabbed her and lifted her from the ground. She kicked him square in the solar plexus and he dropped her back to one knee. Jill drove an uppercut into him and shoulder tossed him behind her.

He didn't get back up. Because Leon kicked him right off the edge without any hesitation. He followed that up with a jab cross combination that sent the one fighting him to the edge. And then he spun a hook kick, wrapped his knee over the back of that ugly head, and used the full turn of it to throw him over the edge.

Jill smirked a little and he winked at her.

Fuck, she thought, that was the attraction. That was entirely it. The humor, the body, the face…and the ability. The trifecta followed by the coup de grace.

The last two were hesitant. Jill chuckled at them and beckoned. She waited for the first one to rush her and dropped low. She threw him up and out. She heard Leon laugh and knew he'd handle it. The second got a handful of her jacket and ripped her forward. She stumbled and went to one knee.

He grabbed for her face and she grabbed his wrist, jerked, and hyper extended the elbow. As the man tried to reverse, she spun her leg out and took his feet, throwing him to his back on the ground. She jerked that arm and rolled him to his face. She released his arm, grabbed his face and neck, and jerked.

The snap of breaking bone was loud in the quiet night.

Leon, breathing a little heavily, stepped up beside her.

"Shit. That gets the blood pumping right?"

Jill rose and nodded. She glanced up at his face. "You're good. Taekwondo?"

"Yep. And Krav Maga. Karate. Eskrima. Muay Thai. The usual suspects."

Fuck. She was turned on. She laughed a little. "Yeah? Aikido?"

"Sure." He wiped a hand down his face to sweep the sweat away. "You?"

"Mmm. And Shotokan kata. A lot of plyometric training."

He glanced down at her as they moved down the walkway toward the cave. He pulled the Magnum to keep it at the ready. "Granted. You ever considered Parkour?"

Jill lifted her brows at him. "You saying you study it?"

"Naturally. Being able to visualize my environment in the most efficient and flexible way possible is the only way to survive. Of course, sometimes it fails me and I find myself trapped in a guard house…but usually it means I see things in ten different ways at once. It's a lot of crawling and running and jumping."

Amused, she looked at his face. He had a small smear of blood on his cheekbone. She brushed it with her thumb without thinking. He turned his profile toward her and her thumb skimmed over his mouth. NOT an improvement.

She didn't immediately drop her hand either which was playing with fire.

Leon looked at her mouth, heaved out a laugh, and moved into the cave.

Jill sighed and followed.

There wasn't anything in there but a big circular disk. Leon picked it up, hefting it in his hand and the wall shifted. It stuttered and trembled and slid up. There was a ladder waiting for them.

With little choice, they mounted the ladder and climbed out the top of the cave into a small recess. There wasn't anything there but some bats, some darkness, some moldy rock…and a boat near a small dock. Leon helped Jill up the rest of the ladder and let go of her like she might be about to catch fire.

They piled onto the small boat and Leon pulled the ripcord. Guiding them out of the dark cave, he took the boat through a narrow spill of river and into another row of caves. The boat could only fit down one path and came to a slow stop at another dock.

They stepped out, clearing the area as they went. But there was nothing waiting for them but a set of stone stops that led up to a door. It had a cross bar over it, sealing it shut. Leon hefted it and opened the way to the small stairs that would take them…back to the circular enclosure he'd come through with the three small guard houses.

With a laugh, he said, "Good news is, right through that far door? The path straight up to the damn church. Talk about a short cut."

Jill grinned a little, "As a master of knives…I'm known for my short cuts."

And so the puns continued.

They crossed through the upswung gate and headed toward the other side.

There was a loud groan of sound. The thunder rumbled deep and loud. The rain picked up like it had gone mad for them. It started pouring manically. They ducked into one of the small guard houses and a huge roar of sound drew their attention.

The enormous wall across from them was open now and five men were pulling chains. They were shouting in Spanish and seemed to be in the greatest game of tug of war in history. Because they were having a tug of war with…a monster.

It was a troll? It was a monster. It was twenty five feet tall and covered in graying flesh that looked like old leather aged in the sun. It was all muscle with a face that was heavy jaw and narrow, angry eyes. The dirty shorts on its lower body were falling apart and split. It was the Hulk…on crack.

And it was done being captive to its masters.

It broke free with a roar as loud as the thunder that shook the heavens. It kicked and the body it struck flew and exploded the moment it hit the wall it struck. It burst with blood and collapsed in a mess to the ground. It struck the next with a downward punch that smashed him into the ground with a splat and crunch of bone.

They tried to run. But it grabbed the next and threw him into another one, causing them both to crash together and implode. The last one he picked up, he eyed him while he dangled…and it grabbed him in the other hand and pulled. Jill made a sound of horror and turned her face into him as it ripped the man in two. It tore him in half with an eruption of blood, a splatter of intestines and naked spine, and screaming.

And then it threw him at the guard house where they were hiding.

Leon grabbed Jill around the waist and tackled her. The world slowed down and the body struck the house the moment they slid into the mud and skidded free of it. The house went down, like the Big Bad Wolf had blown it over, and collapsed in a spill of splinters and blood.

They scrambled apart. They split its focus.

And a streak of lightning heralded the start of the scariest battle of their lives.


	7. OB6

**VI: CONVICTION**

* * *

" _ **I meant what I said and I said what I meant."**_

― _**Dr. Seuss, Horton Hatches the Egg**_

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 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain – 2004**

The only thing she knew, when she rolled to miss out on being crushed to death by a fist the size of a Volvo, was that she should have kissed Leon Kennedy. Why hadn't she? What purpose had driven her to keep her mouth to herself? It seemed irrelevant now. It seemed stupid and mundane and ridiculous. She wanted to put her mouth on his and taste him.

And she'd let common sense keep that from happening.

Now?

Now she was running in circles to avoid being turned into splatter paint on the muddy earth while the rain bombarded her vision and slowed her response time. When had she last indulged in ANY kind of selfish gesture? She'd spent one fucking day in a bar with a guy with too much charm and too much hair and she'd regretted, for days afterward, not sliding up on his rocking body and riding him like the Kentucky Derby.

So, here she was, ass deep in monsters, trying to figure out how to kill twenty five feet of a nasty beast and wondering what Leon S. Kennedy kissed like. She was betting the S was for sweet. Maybe he tasted like sweet tarts. He probably tasted like sex. It was likely he tasted like sunshine and summer days and sin. The supply of literary s-words to fill in the blank and replace the Scott in his name was endless.

Furthermore, he moved like a fucking ninja. He rolled. He slid. He used that body to be one step ahead of every punch, kick, and smash the damn monster threw at him. He flipped and tucked and went into back handsprings. She watched him sweep and duck and pivot. He was a dancer or an acrobat or a brawler.

He was all things.

And he was beautiful.

Jill threw herself into the last standing guardhouse. She glanced around in desperation. There was little to be found. A tray of herbs on one wall. A box on the floor stocked with mining supplies. There was a pickaxe and a shovel…and a bundle of TNT. That's right. A bundle of dynamite.

She grabbed it and holstered her sidearm. She rolled it in her gloved palm. And she dug in her hip pack for her S.T.A.R.S. lighter. The goddamn thing had NEVER failed her.

Versus the monster, Leon Kennedy was having a different experience. He was flagging. He was running out of ideas. And he was pretty sure he was seconds away from becoming road pizza.

The thing swung at him and he pivoted, ducked, and felt the air swish over his head as it missed by inches. He turned the Magnum up into its downturned face and pulled the trigger. The heavy round blasted it right in the left eye. It reared, roaring its rage to the heavens, and swung blindly at him for the effort.

Leon raced at it, timed it, and dove. His hands caught the flailing wrists, his arms pushed and shoved, and he grabbed on for dear life and started climbing. He climbed up the arm like a fly on a window. It spun, trying to dislodge him, and he dropped his knife into his hand as he went. As it reached up to grab him, he slashed at its hand. Blood sprayed, it hesitated in pain, and he put the Magnum to the side of its head and pulled the trigger.

The round blew out the other side of that ugly face in a splatter of gore. It soaked his chest and the side of his face. It was scalding in the cold, cold air. The giant howled, shaking the sky with its thunderous voice, and it caught him as he tried to turn tail and flee.

It picked him up and brought him around to face it. It was gushing blood from its temple. It was blind in one eye. And it started squeezing.

The compression on his body was so instant, so horrible, that he was screaming. He was screaming as it crushed him to death. He was going to die from implosion. He was dead where he dangled. And then a streak of white passed by his face.

And a bark split the air around him.

The troll threw him toward the ground in an unexpected movement.

He braced for it and rolled through it, smearing through mud and gasping. He crawled, stumbling, and Jill grabbed him to pull him to his feet. The troll was giving chase to the small white wolf he'd freed from the trap in the forest.

It was barking and leaping and running. It was…helping them.

He staggered, and Jill grabbed him. She shouted above the hammering rain. "Are you alright!?"

"I'm a little sad!" He shouted back as he tried to make sure nothing was broken in his aching body, "Being crushed by large fists can be very depressing."

If he could still pun, Jill thought wildly, he was probably ok.

She showed him the TNT. He blinked, eyes wide.

She called, "Get ready. Get down. And STAY DOWN."

He nodded and ran out to join the dog. They kept it distracted and swinging. Jill lit the TNT and climbed up its leg. She stuffed it in the dirty shorts and leaped off.

Leon whistled for the wolf and ran for it. Jill tackled him and took them to the ground behind the last guard house. She pressed him into the mud and covered him with her body. He shook his head and reversed it, rolling her beneath him and pinning her against the guardhouse wall.

She breathed, she gasped, and the whole world was thrown into madness. The TNT exploded. It sounded like thunder and lit the world lightning and made a WHOMP of pressure that pushed them down into the mud like tinker toys. Jill scrambled her hands around him, wrapped her legs around his and tugged him flat into her. The wolf was smashed between them and the wall as well. Jill threw an arm over him as well.

Fire blossomed out and was stained with gusts of blood. It bellowed free in a burp of endless flame that went blue and white and red like the fourth of July. They waited and heard the troll collapse to the ground. But it wasn't dead.

No. It was gushing blood and struggling. It was on its knees. Leon slipped free from her and ran toward it. What would he do? He didn't know.

And then something horrible and ugly split the nasty skin on its back and burst free in a shuddering gush of fluid and goop. It was some kind of parasite. It was some kind of bug with nasty little waving spindly antenna and legs. Disgusted, Leon leaped onto its shoulder and climbed up onto its enormous back. It didn't care. It didn't even know.

Jill, horrified, watched from the ground as he faced off against the nasty thing sticking out of its back and started hacking. He slashed. He stabbed. His arm and hand flourished the knife and kept on going. He was shouting while he carved it up. Maybe there was no turkey on this Thanksgiving…but Leon Kennedy was carving it up like there was one.

Jill gave a Valkyrie's cry and ran toward them. She slung herself up the other arm and met him over that waving parasite. She jabbed; he slashed. She thrust; he stabbed. It made a squealing sound and squelched back into the slash from which it erupted.

The troll started shaking. Leon grabbed her hand over its back and pulled. They held hands and ran down its back. They bounded over the tailbone and raced toward the edge of the circle.

The troll staggered, it moaned, and it went down. It face planted with a cacophonous reverberation. The ground shook and sent them staggering. They fell through the far gate as it raised. The white wolf raced beside them and panted as they jerked open the far door and spilled out onto the platform that led back toward the church.

Jill kicked the door closed. Leon cleared the area with the Magnum in one hand. She swung the machine gun up to echo him. The night was long and blistering with rain around them. Thunder grumbled and lightning turned the world white with the flash of it.

Leon watched his breath gust like smoke out of his lungs. It was that damn cold. The hair on his arms stood up. And Jill breathed in and out beside him. They stared into the long night, gasping.

She whispered, "What the fuckity fuck was that thing?"

And Leon answered, "Jesus Christ."

He lowered the gun and leaned back against the wall. The white wolf was sitting beside Jill watching him. He glanced down at it and held the long look.

"I owe you a box of dog treats buddy. Thank you."

The wolf barked at them and waited. Leon and Jill picked their way across the rickety bridge. It shifted with the wind. The wooden slats were warped and sagging from the continuous rain. They were quick but careful.

The small path curved up the side of the ledge and wrapped them back toward the church. In the dark, without the moon, it was nearly pitch black. They were so very careful as they moved, covering and clearing and progressing slow and steady.

They curled around the top, the tips of the fencing to the side could be seen as if tiny spears were jutting toward the clouds, and they were no longer alone. A wolf was waiting for them between the top of the path and the clearing to the church.

Jill paused…and stepped in front of him.

He blinked, watching her. She'd just done it. She'd just stood between him and a wolf. She'd protected him. No thinking; just instinct.

The wolf on the rise growled. It vibrated on its haunches. Its hair raised and its teeth were bared in its ugly face. Its hackles were clearly raised as it waited for them to rush it or run or just stand there and die. Jill lifted her machine gun at it.

"Move aside, dumb dog, or I'll kill you."

Seemed reasonable.

But it didn't move aside.

It's back burst with waving, shivering, shaking and swirling tentacles. It opened like a zipper and whipping muscular limbs just jutted free to try to smack them around or catch them or kill them. Probably all three.

Jill peppered it full of machine gun rounds and made it dance in a macabre parody of death. It yelped and trembled and was blasted back off its paws to splat in the mud beyond and shimmy across the ground. Its dying breath filled the air like a cloud of white around it.

But it wasn't alone.

Four more were waiting around the church. They banded together. They formed a semicircle. And they started howling. Their yowling echoed over the empty mountainside. It was a litany of song that was meant to frighten the prey into surrender. It was meant to lull you into offering your throat to the gaping jaws of death.

Leon shot the first one that burst tentacle from its back with the Magnum. The heavy round blasted it off its feet with a yip of defeat. The other three started rushing them.

Jill emptied her magazine into a second one.

They were now without bullets; they were now without hope.

The last two flanked them and drove them back down the narrow walkway into the wind tossed night. The rotting wood creaked and groaned under their boots as they stood against the rain and the wind and waited.

The first one bounded toward them on eager paws with tentacles whipping in the storm.

The white wolf bunched its muscles and met it in mid air. There was snarling yelp from the mutant one. They went to the ground snapping and clawing. The fourth one sprung and Jill dropped to her belly on the rotting wood. It split the air above her as it arched. She felt the claws skim over her ball cap as she face planted.

Leon braced, waited, and spun a back kick at it as it came down.

He caught it in the side of the face, its claws slashed over the side of his leg, the yelp of its pain echoed down the canyon…and it flipped and twisted as it went spinning down into the darkness. Jill was already ducked and dodging tentacles. One caught her shoulder and slapped her with pain as she jabbed her blade into the side of the mutant wolf that was trying to kill the white one.

It reared back and Jill wrapped her arm around its snarling throat. The white wolf limped out from beneath it. Jill stuck her blade against its struggling throat and swiped her blade, splitting it wide open. A tentacle slapped her so hard that she was thrown to the side.

She rolled and couldn't stop.

She went over the side and plummeted down. Her hands tried to grab on to the rotting wood and it collapsed and splintered with a crack and a snap. Terrified, she grabbed for the craggy rock as she fell.

And her flailing hand was caught at the wrist. She grabbed on with other, desperately, and dangled. Leon was half hanging over the side of the broken wood. He shouted down to her.

"I need you to help me. Push with your legs and CLIMB, Jill! Ok?!"

"Yes! Yes! Jesus. Ready!?"

On three, he heaved her up and she pushed like a leapfrog. She was airborne, tossed as if she were going into the basket during a cheer, and he caught her waist to drag her up with him. She spilled down atop him, gasping.

The wood creaked and moaned. They rolled and hit the far rise. Jill pulled him to his feet and they raced through the rain toward the church. Lightning struck so hard it split a tree before them. Fire accompanied the horrible crack of splitting wood as the tree bisected and licked the sky with angry tongues.

The snap and pop of burning oak was coupled with the sizzle of rain on fire. Leon tucked the small plate into the depression on the door of the church and listened to it click. He eased open the door and they moved inside. The white wolf barked at them, circled twice, and ran off down the path toward the cemetery.

Leon lifted a hand in goodbye. It was weird to feel sad at a wild animal leaving him. But there it was.

The church was small, compact, dusty…and empty. An altar sat at the front draped in gaudy red with a big Illuminados statue in ugly pewter atop it. He understood now what the bug was, it was a parasite like the one that had exploded out of the back of the giant. It was clearly their "god".

The church smelled somewhat moldy and damp. They glanced around at the cracked and rotting pews and the scarred wood. The stone was possibly as old as the land around it. And a single ladder offered a trip to the second floor balcony.

Leon went up first with Jill in tow behind him. There was a gate down to stop them from reaching the one door that wait at the far side of the balcony. On the other side of the balcony a small machine sat facing the wall above the altar. It was three circles of stained glass.

How did they get there?

It didn't take him long to find the answer. An enormous chandelier was dangling from the ceiling. It was all wrought iron and twisted metal. Leon judged it, backed up, and jumped. He caught the chain and crouched on the iron circle.

Jill watched him, impressed. Again, that flash of remembering something in his file she'd read.

Adaptability. He'd scored higher than anyone in a decade.

He was good at adapting to any situation.

He swung the chandelier and got it moving back and forth…and then he leaped off the other side to the machine. She watched him move to the machine and press buttons. The stained glass on the wall above the altar lit up.

Curious, Jill watched him press buttons and rotate colors on the wall.

She said, finally, "Oh…it wants you to –"

"—Align the colors to form the symbol. Yeah. I see that. But thanks…you ok? You scared the piss out of me trying to take a swan dive down into the dark out there."

Jill chuckled a little and watched the pretty greens and reds roll and click. "Yeah. I'm fine. Thank you. Your ninja reflexes are insane."

Leon cocked one corner of his mouth and shrugged, "We're saving each other, kid. It's what partners do, I hear."

"Yep. Without a doubt."

There was a click as the symbols all blended together and meshed. The gates blocking the door rose. Jill waited for him to cross around the far side and meet her in front of it.

Her face was swollen and seeping blood where the tentacle had struck her. His hand cupped her chin to turn it into the light. Jill smiled a little. "Likely looks worse than it is. I promise you."

It slashed over her cheekbone and hooked down toward the little cleft in her chin. His thumb dipped there and rubbed, pleasing them both. She lifted her hand and curled it around his wrist above the tactical glove. Her thumb answered the sweep of his by skimming the smooth skin on his underarm.

He traced her mouth with his thumb and let her go. Jill kept hold of his forearm and turned him toward her. Leon shook his head and whispered, softly, "Don't, Jill." But she did. She slid her arms around his waist and put her uninjured cheek against his collarbone.

Their wet clothes squished together. He stood in the circle of her arms with his eyes closed and his hands clenched and slightly dangling at his sides. Jill stroked his back over his wet shirt and tucked her fingers up under the crossed leather of his shoulder holster.

She murmured, "Thank you. For before…thank you…just give me a minute ok?"

Relenting, his muscles relaxed and eased into her hold. He dropped his forehead to the crown of her ball cap and breathed her in. She listened to his heartbeat for a long moment and finally let him go.

They held eyes as she stepped back. Jill breathed a little. "Sorry. I'm ok. Sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry." His voice was low and gravelly, "No reason for sorry. It's ok. We're ok."

She nodded a little. "Does…does that shirt loop through your belt or what?"

Leon blinked, confused by the sharp shift in subjects, "What?"

"Does that shirt loop through your belt? It's stuck to you like glue."

He glanced down at it. It was plastered to him, sure. But he wasn't sure what she was asking here. "No. Why?"

"Just curious."

He shrugged and lifted the shift in the front. It made a wet suckling sound as moisture wicking material separated from his skin. And there it was, Jill thought as he raised it to mid sternum and killed her with a fantastic view of that perfect stomach of his. She shifted, staring at him like a starving person looking at food.

He glanced down at the material with a shrug. "It's meant to bond and insulate at the same time that it redistributes and rehydrates even as it wicks sweat off the skin. I guess it just…sucks."

He chuckled a little and shrugged. Jill watched his tummy bunch. She shook her head with a self-deprecating laugh. "Put it down before I go blind. Seriously."

Leon lifted his eyes to her face and dropped the shirt. It slid back into place like a second skin. She was flushed across her cheeks. Her eyes were dilated.

The thing about being who he was…meant he was tuned in to the human response in a way that a normal person wasn't. Hell, he'd been trained to interrogate and study expressions and watch for minute changes in the subject. So, he studied her without thinking about.

He watched her eyes, watched her mouth, and the shift and spill of her skin. And he smelled her. Which, sounded weird and kinda creepy, but he scented her. Leon watched her and felt the warmth in his guts that was delight.

She…wanted him.

She just wanted him.

It was written all over her from blood to bone. She was flushed and dilated and breathing heavy. There was a heave to her bosom that drew his eager gaze like a starving thing. Her lip kept rolling under to be slicked by her tongue and chewed by her teeth. Her feet kept shifting slightly. And he knew…if he put his hand in her pants she'd be moist for him.

Jesus Christ.

How did people run around together all the time and survive it?

The blood flushing her face echoed across his and went straight to his groin. There it was again. He was hard for her. Hell. They were seducing each other without lifting a finger.

Ridiculous.

He laughed a little and grabbed the knob for the door. A couple of pink-faced teenagers, that's what they were here. She watched the blush spill across his cheekbones. And she didn't THINK he could be any cuter.

And then she shifted a little closer to him to align to clear the door, her hip brushed at his groin. He jumped.

He jumped like she'd bit him. Or smacked him. Or farted on him.

And she was wrong. He could be cuter. Infinitely.

Tongue in cheek, Jill mused, "You ok? Sore?"

He made a sound like a strangled laugh. "Mm. Yeah. Sore. Yup." He cleared his throat and charmed the hell out of her, "You ready?"

She looked at his mouth and answered, "Yeah. I'm ready."

She was ready for all kinds of things. Sadly.

They nodded off to each other and he opened it. He went in high, Jill cleared low. It was a storage room of some kind. Boxes and crates lined the walls. And Ashley Graham was waiting there for them.

She threw a candlestick at him. It glanced off his left biceps as she turned and ran to huddle in the corner. In person, she looked younger than her picture. He couldn't remember exactly but her bio put her somewhere between nineteen and twenty. She was in college, law school if he remembered correctly, and so she was clearly intelligent.

She was also terrified.

She shouted, in a high pitched and frightened tone, "NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

She was dressed in a little ribbed orange sleeveless sweater with a turtleneck and brown scarf draped around her neck and shoulders. A green plaid skirt and knee high brown boots completed her school girl gone casual look and complimented the dusky complexion of her face. A short bob with feathery bangs made for a pretty face. Again, the picture he had did her no justice. She was prettier in person.

And, again his mind told him, young. It was hard to believe he'd ever been that young.

Leon eased his Magnum back into his shoulder holster. He lifted his hands to show himself unarmed, "Ashley? It's ok. It's alright. My names Leon. I'm under the President's order to protect you."

Ashley eased away from the wall, watching him. She tilted her head. "My Dad?"

"Yep. This is Jill Valentine with the BSAA. We're here to rescue you. You want to get the hell out of here?"

And now Ashley laughed, sharp and fast. She leaped to her feet. "You kidding? Let's go. Now. Hurry. Before they get back. Some ugly fucker grabbed me when my friend went to the bathroom. I woke up here…in this place. They feed me and won't talk to me. They occasionally throw me around. Do I want to get out of here? Are you serious? Let's GO."

They moved out the door and hurried toward the ladder. He went down first with Jill behind him. They moved forward and realized Ashley wasn't behind them. Leon turned back, looking up at her.

She called down, sheepishly, "I'm afraid of heights."

Jill glanced at his face. He sighed and went to one knee, "Come on. I'll catch you."

Happy now, Ashley dropped down into his arms. He grunted and caught her, setting her on her feet. Amused, Jill said nothing as they crossed back into the gathering area of the church.

A voice echoed around them and gave them pause.

"Ahhhh. I wondered if you would arrive to greet me."

They turned and an ugly man in a purple robe was standing at the altar smiling at them. He held a staff with a disgusting lumpy parasite on the top with tentacles sticking out around it. Potentially, the whole staff was made from the disgusting thing. A single eye was looking at them form the staff. The illuminados symbol was wrapped around his neck and collarbone to bind the cloak her wore to him. A hood draped carelessly over his ugly face. He had heavy bladed nose and a distinctly cleft chin. His brow was broad and sloping. His skin was pale and graying. And his eyes? They were nearly white with little color through the iris.

He said, "I…am Osmund Saddler. You are making things very difficult for me, Mr. Kennedy. I'm attempting to demonstrate to the world…our ASTOUNDING power."

He paced near the altar. Jill was still beyond the pillar. She was unseen. She started to shift and Leon held his hand down by his hip toward her in a gesture to pause her. Ashley ducked behind Leon enough that it was obvious she was seeking his protection.

Leon, cucumber cool, even wry, remarked, "Sorry to chafe your cheeks there, pal. But I don't give a shit what you want. I'm taking Ashley out of here. You can move out of my way or join the rest of your friends at the bottom of a ditch…your choice."

Saddler tilted his head, studying him. "You Americans…always so arrogant. Policing the world like it belongs to you. I will let you take the President's daughter back to him. I ENCOURAGE it. She has already been given our gift. Within his bosom, she will be our greatest gift to the world. But I have need of her still…so I'm afraid the time has not come for that…quite yet. It is costly to fund such..lofty goals. I find I am in need of donations for the cause. I will ransom her back to her father. For a price."

Ashley made a small sound of fear. "Leon…they…injected me with something."

Leon narrowed his gaze at Saddler. "You coward. You son of a bitch. What did you do to her?"

Saddler shrugged, smiling, "The same as was done to you. I have blessed you with the divine presence. You will ascend soon enough. So, run…hide. You will still come to me. I will wait for you. But I will take the girl from you now."

Leon laughed a little at him. "Yeah? I DARE you."

From the far door, two men with bowguns emerged. They were wielding the weapons with fiery bolts. Ashley made a small sound of fear. They raised the weapons and took aim.

Leon grabbed her hand and ran for it.

The bolts struck the wall where he'd been a moment before and they hit the far stained glass window. He dragged the girl with him into the pretty greens and blues. It shattered around them, tinkling musically as they fell.

Against the stone column, Jill breathed, waiting.

She could hear Saddler and his men talking on the altar. He was giving them instruction in Spanish. She could make out the word castle and plagas. Plagas? Was that the parasites that they worshiped?

She eased back into the shadows as he exited the church. When she was relatively sure she was safe, she hurried to the broken window and glanced down. The little storage room where Leon had fallen was empty.

She leaped down and moved out into the rain.

She was going to backtrack to the village. A second path led up toward the castle. The best thing to do here was to take that path and try to locate the extraction point he'd mentioned. She had no doubt he'd be waiting there for her.

They were both in trouble here. There was no ammo between them. He was now in possession of a girl without any survival skills. And the night seemed to have empowered the damn parasites that grew within the infected men.

At the small gate back to the village, she heard the shouting. Heart racing, she ran toward the noise. Leon and Ashley were rushing to a tall wooden gate passed a dilapidated barn. She watched him piggyback the girl over the gate and turn back to go fist to face with some surging town members.

Jill hefted a pitchfork and snuck through the barn. She eased into the shadows and waited. Leon took down the first one with a beautiful spin kick and a boot to the skull. He paced between the other two and Jill hurried out.

The first man swung, she ducked down and drove the pitchfork up through his sternum. Hefting him on the sharp tines, she levered him up and jerked him away. Leon feinted under the grip of the other, rolled his shoulder up, and flipped him over his back.

Jill drove the pitchfork into his face with his buddy still impaled on it.

She muttered, "Twofer."

And a small muffled voice called, "The gate is open!"

They moved out beyond the gate to find themselves facing a narrow bridge. It was swaying in the gusting wind. The rain was slapping it around and the cold air was frigid. Leon led them across the bridge.

Jill glanced at the girl with them. She'd responded with aplomb, which was admirable. In a desperate situation, she was bouncing with it like an energetic Tigger. She glanced up at Jill and smiled a little.

And then she said, softly, "He's kinda stupidly cute right? Or has it been too long since I saw a hot guy?"

Jill smirked a little, "No. He's stupidly cute."

"That shirt…it's like a wet t-shirt contest gone wrong…or terribly right."

Jill chuckled. She kinda liked this girl. Ashley added, "Any chance my Dad sent James Bond over there to save me because he knew I'd enjoy following that ass around in the pouring rain?"

And now she outright laughed. "I doubt the man candy angle was explored in the mission parameters. But you could consider it a nice bonus. I promise you, the skills in that pretty package are even better than the ass."

Leon stopped at the edge of the bridge. He rolled his neck and stretched. It drew every muscle taut from ankles to shoulders. It was a HELLUVA show in that tight shirt.

Ashley giggled a little. "Hard to believe. HARD to believe."

And they both chuckled a little.

Apparently, in dire circumstances, girls were still girls. And objectifying Leon Kennedy took away from the fear of being dying tragically while parasites burst from your body. She couldn't blame the girl for looking for something to distract her.

As they reached him, he glanced between their amused faces. "What?"

Ashley and Jill looked at each other and chuckled.

"What?" He tried again.

Jill shook her head, "Nothing. Do we have a plan here?"

"The extraction point is just over the next rise. First step: get the fuck out of here. Next step: get this shit out of our bodies."

Ashley nodded, the humor slipping beneath the fear now. "Leon…do not let me turn into one of those things."

He shook his head at her and patted her arm. "I won't. Don't give up ok? I'll get us out of this, I swear it."

She believed him. Jill believed him. He looked so confident and convinced. He looked so sure. It was hard not to believe him.

Jill opened her mouth to suggest they get moving and there was a rough sound of the gates opening and closing. Dozens of towns members were rushing toward them now with flaming torches and pitchforks. They were shouting and cursing.

Ashley whispered, "Holy fucking shit. We're done. We're dead! What the hell do we do?"

Leon glanced around and gestured. At the top of the rise, a cabin waited in the pouring rain. It was lit through the windows and boarded up. It was sagging but seemed secure.

"First? Run. Second? Hide. After that, don't die tops my list."

They ran for the house. Leon kicked in the door and gestured them through. He slammed the door and Jill was already pushing furniture in front of the windows. Leon shoved a bookshelf in front of the door.

From the top of the stairs, a Spanish accent. "Aye aye aye…Leon Kennedy."

Luis Sera was coming down the stairs toward them. He cocked a hip, amused. "I see the President equipped his daughter with…ballistics."

Ashley looked offended and irate. "I don't see how my tits have ANYTHING to do with my standing! Who is this clown!?"

Leon shook his head and grabbed her arm at the elbow. "Not now. Don't worry about it. Go upstairs and HIDE. Stay there and wait. Do you hear me?"

She listened. She ran for it.

Sera winked at her as she passed. Annoyed, Ashley rushed up the stairs.

Sera came down the last few steps and tossed the canvas bag in his hand on the table in front of them. "Gifts. For my _amigos._ "

The bag was filled with ammo. It was full of flash-bang grenades. Impressed, Jill and Leon started reloading at a desperate pace.

Jill felt him looking. She met his gaze. Sera said, "You must be his _Hermosa angel._ "

Jill lifted a brow. "Sorry?"

Sera winked at her. "Leon…was rather desperate to find you. I see why. You are.. _exquisita."_

Amused, Jill laughed a little and swung her machine gun to the ready as she finished loading it. "I also answer to Jill Valentine."

She moved to the gap in the window and looked out. The villagers were surrounding the house on all side. The stormy night was lit with the fire of torches and the call of battle. Frightening. They were being bearded in the den.

She said, softly, "If they set fire to this house…we're fucked."

Sera shifted and joined her. He stood, in her opinion, unnecessarily close to her back. "It doesn't seem so terrible really. _Un monto de hijos de puta_. _Si._ But I can think of worse things than being trapped in this house with… an _enamorada."_

Jill rolled her eyes and gave him a narrow look. "You're wasting your time, cowboy. Just so we're clear."

Sera shrugged and stepped away from her. He made sure to brush a hand over her back as he went. Jill gave Leon a long-suffering look.

Amused, Leon shrugged and moved to stand guard at the other window.

He instructed, calmly, "Pick them off, take them down. Keep your back to each other. Don't lone ranger. Don't get stupid."

Jill lifted her brows at him. "I know how to survive an assault, hot stuff. Probably better than you do."

Chuckling. Sera whistled a little. "Feisty. A feisty Valentine. _Hermosa diabla."_

Jill rolled her eyes again. Sera, unflappable, remarked, "I see why he's drawn to you. You are clearly as brave as you're beautiful. Some guys have all the luck."

Before she could say anything else, the first rush of men began pounding at the windows. There was a crash from upstairs. She whipped her eyes to Leon and nodded to him.

He gestured with his head and Jill raced up the steps to defend Ashley.

The onslaught began. It was brutally fast. There was no time to do anything but survive it.

They kept them at bay while they could. They kept them outside while they could. When one broke into the house, they were put down and disposed of.

The sounds of fighting were loud and echoed in the peeling thunder and bursts of lightning. Rain pounded the roof. Jill shoved ladders that they crammed against the windows to try to make their way in. She raced, she fired.

She kept them out and protected the wardrobe where Ashley Graham was hidden.

Downstairs, Leon and Luis were surrounded. They covered each other, back to back, they ducked and punched. They kicked and parried. For a "cop", Sera was a helluva of a pugilist. He knew how to move, how to return, how to roll.

Jill shouted, she took a hit and went down. She hit the wall and sprang off to kick two of them together off the ladder they were mounting. She shoved the next ladder away.

Leon broke a neck, kicked a groin, punched a face. It was endless. It was harried.

And then it started to scale back a little. It started to be slower. They started to breathe a little.

But it was a false lull. A calm before a storm. A lie.

He could hear Jill up the stairs fighting for her life. He ducked, he rolled, he kicked. The first wave was finished, the second was coming. And this wave?

It was all mutated parasitic freaks. They threw tentacles and hammered at the door. Leon grabbed a flashbang from the table and ran for the stairs. He whistled, and Sera joined him. They backed up and the horde of them gathered there, whipping tentacles and meandering.

Jill bumped into him and the three of them were boxed in on the stairs. He met her eyes, she nodded…Leon dropped the grenade. It bounced down the steps with a clang of metal.

Sera ducked and covered his head. Leon grabbed Jill and ducked, pulling her into his body. It was unnecessary. It really was.

But they didn't care. She went into his body like she'd been waiting for it. Her fingers curled into his shoulder holster. Her face turned into his damp neck. He turned his head toward her. And their mouths were a breath apart.

The world erupted in white light.

The sound was screeching.

The world rang with noise. There was the loud pop and plop and gush of heads exploding. A totally, utterly, horribly gross moment. She kept on holding his eyes…and she brushed their mouths against each other.

The master of unlocking. The master of inappropriate timing. She was both.

Sera was crouched and gasping behind them. "Brilliant. BRILLIANT. _¿Cómo sabías?"_

He was still crouched there looking at Jill. She knew they should both move. They should. And then he answered, in perfect Spanish, which surprised and impressed her. " _La luz del sol."_

Sera glanced back at him. _"¿Qué?_ "

And Leon answered, quietly, " _Los Illuminados_. A funny name for a cult damaged by sunlight."

Sera rose to his feet, "I think we're in the clear for now. That was some…fancy fighting, _amigo._ You are Zorro, it would seem.And you appear to know what you're doing. Saddler…will make every attempt to stop you. I will do what I can."

He glanced at them, still crouched on the stairs. He smirked a little.

"Do yourselves a favor: get that girl to her Daddy and find a quiet room to work out…your tension." He laughed a little bit at himself and moved toward the door, "It is so thick in here I'm choking on it just being next to you. Deal with it, before it kills you both. _Hasta luego!"_

He disappeared out the front door of the cabin.

Bodies were littered all over the stairs and the floor around them. They were crouched amongst the blood and the dead. Jill thought there were probably better things to be doing. There were better things to do than crouch in the blood and stare at Leon Kennedy from an inch away.

She couldn't think of a single one…at the moment.

Jill finally whispered, "We should go…get Ashley…and…move..on…"

Each word was slow. It was punctuated by her shifting head and a long swallow. It was charming. It was nervous. It was filled with eyes that kept drifting to mouths and back to eyes. His voice was low, gravelly, and almost amused. "Mmm. Yeah. Probably."

Jill answered, "You speak Spanish."

"Hmm. Yep. Spanish. _Si_."

He rubbed their noses together. She shivered.

"What else? French?"

" _Oui, je sais parler français."_

Her stomach rolled. "Mmm…Italian?"

" _I toui occhi sono bellissimi."_

Yep. She was going to kiss him. She made a murmuring sound. He smiled with hooded eyes. They needed to MOVE. They were crouched in blood for pete's sake.

But she whispered, "German?"

" _Ich_ _bin_ _verrückt_ _nach_ _dir_ _."_

Jill's hands slid under his holster to rub at his shoulders. She whispered again, almost desperately now, "I'm crazy about you too. _Loco_. _Kriezi._ Damnit."

He laughed a little and cupped her face with one hand.

She leaned in to kiss him and a voice yelled from upstairs. "Is it clear!? Hello!?"

Leon closed his eyes for a long moment. Jill slid her hand off his biceps and sighed. She slid away from him and had him bumping his head back against the wall in frustration.

She called, "Come on down, Ashley. It's all good down here."

Leon twisted his mouth to the side and bumped his head again on the wall. "You're killing me here, kid. You know that."

Jill couldn't help it, she laughed. "Cuts both ways, Kennedy. Double edged sword."

He rose from the stairs and Ashley hurried toward them. "Holy shit on a stick, dude! That was IN-sane! What now? We done? Can we get whatever crap they shot into me out now? Maybe?"

Leon nodded a little and moved to the bag on the table. He and Jill started loading spare magazines and tucking them into their pouches. Ashley lifted her brows at the silence.

It was thick enough to walk on here. What was the deal? She glanced back and forth between them. She watched those superb biceps of Leon's bunch as he crammed the remainder of the mags into the pouch clipped to his belt. He looked angry.

She didn't think it was regarding what had just happened. Jill was flushed and clearly nervous. Ashley shot another look between them. She glanced back at the mess on the stairs. How long had things been quiet before she'd come out of that wardrobe where she'd been hiding?

What had they been doing in the downtime?

Amused, she determined that maybe Jill knew ALL about his fantastic ass. Maybe that's what she'd meant about his "pretty package". With a little giggle, Ashley remarked, tongue in cheek, "Somebody fart in here? Why is everyone so uncomfortable?"

Jill shook her head and moved to the door. She peeked out.

And Leon's communicator signaled. He moved up the stairs to answer it. Ashley mused, "I wonder if he's gay. He hasn't looked at my tits once. The other guy? He was ALL about my tits. That walking wet dream up there? Nothing. Nada. Zippppo. I'm a little insulted."

She watched Jill shift and shrug a little. "He's a professional."

"Hmm. Or maybe he's looking at someone else's tits."

She turned her head over her shoulder. Ashley was grinning at her. "Spill it. You tagging that hot piece of ass up there?"

Jill was utterly amused by the girl. Oh, dear lord, to be that young again. Worried about "hot pieces of ass" and who's "taggin". Imagine if that's all there was to life. Jill WISHED that's all that mattered. Of course, maybe picturing Leon Kennedy poking her was the only thing keeping Ashley from losing her mind in a bad situation.

Better than thinking about parasites in your body.

Infinitely.

And who was she kidding? Jill thought with a wry smile. They BOTH were thinking about Leon Kennedy poking them it seemed. What a hypocrite she was.

Charlatan. Phony. Fraud. Imposter. She WANTED him looking at her tits.

It made her laugh a little. "Nope. Not tagging that hot piece of ass up there. Although I wonder how he'd feel being referred to as one."

"Fuck it," Ashley mused, "Men have been doing it for centuries. Let's flip sexism on its ear and start objectifying him."

Jill was laughing as he came back down the stairs.

Curious, he lifted a brow.

She shook her head and considered him, "News?"

He held her gaze and finally shifted it to Ashley, "Yeah. Yeah, there is…someone shot down the chopper sent to extract us. They're prepping another one...but it's gonna take awhile."

And the horrible truth of that was answered by silence…and the echo of a boom of thunder.

They were, it seemed now, entirely on their own. The hope of escape had just gone down with that chopper. It seemed the only thing they had left was each other.

And so the President's daughter remarked, "Well, what a crock of shit huh? Anybody know any good jokes?"

And there was nothing they could do now...but laugh.


	8. Chapter 8

**VII: Valor**

* * *

" _ **It is stupidity rather than courage to refuse to recognize danger when it is close upon you."**_

― _**Arthur Conan Doyle, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes**_

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain – 2004**

They waited for a moment while the rain raged beyond the cabin. And when the rain showed no sign of slacking, they finally gave up on waiting and ventured out into the rain. The good news was that in the cabin had been a pretty decent coat for Ashley to wear. It was ugly and brown but it was warm.

The bad news was that Leon was still running around in the cold without a coat. Jill grabbed him before they stepped out and offered him his coat back. He shook his head, denying, "Keep it. I meant what I said. I don't get cold."

Jill shook her head. She kept the jacket outstretched to him. "Take it. Or we stand here all night."

Annoyed, he took the jacket and slipped it on. It settled on him like it was made for him…because it clearly was.

Ashley laughed a little. "How do you look BETTER in a coat? Who looks better in a coat!?"

Jill chuckled too. "Right? Stupidly cute."

"Utterly stupidly cute."

Leon rolled his eyes with a huff of annoyance and opened the door into the rain. They cleared high and low and moved into the thunder and lightning. Jill was fine, honestly, her jacket was a wet weather top. It was great. She'd only taken the jacket he'd offered before to please him.

She didn't need it.

She was seldom cold.

They moved toward the far side of the house. A pair of wooden gates awaited them. Between the gates was a lever and a pulley. Sera had written a note in a fine looping scrawl for them and stuck it to the lever:

 _Amigos – To the left: The fight of your life. To the right: The fight of your life. Choose wisely. Both will get you where you need to go. Both could get you dead. It's with great regret I offer you no real choice here…but which path might get you killed. Ganados or Monsters…good luck. Hasta Luego._

Leon twisted his mouth wryly.

"Craptastic."

Jill snorted. "That about says it all there."

Ashley glanced at the gates. "So which way?"

Leon shrugged a little, turning in that fantastic coat of his. "Ladies choice?"

With a laconic shrug, Ashley said, "Left?"

And Leon pushed the lever left.

The gate rolled up with a chug of pulley and rope. It was loud in the steady rain. Jill shook her ball cap to throw some rain off it and plopped it back on her head. She figured, if she never saw rain again after this, she'd be just fine.

They stepped through the gate with their guns up. It was a…maze? It was something. There were parapets of wood encircled over a pit. Fighting pits? What the fuck was it?

It didn't matter. There was a door somewhere down in the mess of it. Jill could see it as she leaned over the railing. It was too far to jump. They needed to find the way down.

She opened her mouth to say something and she heard it. The ripping roar of chainsaw…s. Chainsaws. Multiple.

Leon said, softly, "Ashley…hide."

And she ran for it. She jumped into the dumpster that was sitting forlornly at the edge of the walkway. When the lid was closed and quiet, they moved together toward the far side of the parapet.

And came face to face with no less then twenty five villagers. What had Sera written? Ganados? That's what they were called apparently.

Amongst the ganados, two different chainsaw wielding women were raising the death machines above their bloodied, covered faces. One had blood stained bandages wrapped around her ugly face. The other wore nothing but an eyepatch turned brown with old blood.

There were in dresses and soft leather shoes. They were soft and had big bellies like Mrs. Claus. They looked like they should be making soup and cookies instead of trying to kill people with chugging chainsaws.

Crows cawed and swarmed in the soggy air. Bodies littered ground, clearly put there by jagged teeth and ripping hands. They didn't care apparently. They killed each other without qualm.

Leon murmured, "Circling vultures are a "dead" giveaway."

Jill shook her head. "Keep it up, Kennedy. You'll pun yourself to death."

And Leon, without missing a beat, quipped, "Won't matter. This rain keeps up? I'll be "coffin" myself to death."

Jill laughed and pulled a flashbang from the bag. "Ready?"

"Let's do this thing, Valentine. Toss it."

And she did.

They turned their backs and the world went white and burst with noise. What was mutated, died on the spot. What wasn't, staggered and careened. Leon shot four in the head so fast she had to blink. He had dead aim.

He was incredible.

Through the smoke and the light, he didn't even hesitate. He just blew them away.

Jill lit into them with the machine gun. She aimed for the chainsaw ladies while they staggered and screamed. The sounds of gunfire joined the rumbles of thunder. When they started to come again, she tossed another grenade.

The world exploded and Leon turned his head, braced, and then right back to blowing them away.

He shifted on the parapet and took aim. He shot. He shifted. He shot. He made minute and tiny adjustments with his eyes volleying all over the ganados gathered there. He blasted them, shifted, blasted them, shifted. Jill filled them full of rounds while they all stumbled and fell.

The chainsaw ladies literally jumped up onto the parapet with them.

Jill focused on killing the crowd still in the pit.

She left the chainsaw ladies to Leon.

He had one on either side.

He shot the first one in the face, ran dry, and turned back to reload while the other advanced. Bandage face was staggering from the heavy round to the eye. He spun a back kick at her and kicked her down into the pit again.

Eyepatch was still coming for him.

She swung and he rolled, missing a deadly swipe to the face.

He slapped the magazine into his Magnum and rose, eyeing her. "You sure are ugly, you know that? You mad because you aren't the prettiest girl at the party?"

She surprised the hell out of him. He raised his gun to shoot her and she threw the chainsaw at him. The shot went wild and the chainsaw, sputtering to a stop, smashed into his arms that he barely shot up to protect his face. It knocked him on his ass.

He skidded over the wooden parapet and grabbed for the edge. He caught it, nearly stayed up, but she kicked him in the face while he tried to get his legs back under him. And he went over the edge into the madness.

Jill shouted, horrified.

She watched him disappear under the remaining men that scrambled to kill him.

She turned the machine gun on Eyepatch and filled her full of rounds until she went down…and didn't get up again.

She cried, "LEON! GET DOWN!"

And she threw another flashbang into the pit.

The last few men staggered and she couldn't risk it now. She couldn't shoot them from the parapet. She couldn't jump down without hurting herself. And she couldn't see Leon under the mess of them now.

"Oh my god…"

She ran around the far side, hunting for the stairs.

In the pit, Leon was trying to relearn how to breathe on his back. Someone grabbed at him and he jerked the closest dead body and kicked it up at them. It knocked them back and Leon rolled to his side while his body throbbed.

He scissors kicked the next one that grabbed at him and rolled across the ground to find his Magnum. It was somewhere in all the bodies.

He threw an elbow into the face of the next and rose.

The odds were five to one right now. Not terrible. He'd survived worse.

He braced and waited and pulled his knife.

Jill raced across a bridge, she ducked under a wall, she leaped over a small gate. Where were the goddamn stairs!?

She heard the sounds of fighting. She ran faster.

And then she heard the chainsaw.

He hadn't killed the first one it seemed. He'd just kicked her down into the pit…to rise again to fight him. And he couldn't find his fucking gun.

"Oh god…oh god…"

She finally gave up on the stairs and grabbed the railing. She vaulted over, swinging her legs to the side, and came down on a barrel. She jumped off and turned, running back toward the sounds of battle.

She heard him shout. Heard him cry out.

"Oh my god…" The fear beat in her bones and her blood like a living thing.

The thunder rolled. The lighting struck. She hit a wall between her and the pits where he was fighting.

"No…"

She raced along the wall. She raced toward the far side. She heard the chug of a chainsaw in flesh. She heard him shout. She heard the splatter of blood.

Her heart was hammering so hard she could TASTE it.

The boards were rotted and weak on the side she came to. She kicked them. She kicked them shouting and crying. She was crying. She couldn't hear him anymore.

She could only hear that chainsaw and the ripping wet of rending skin. The distinct aroma of copper and defeat. The horrid squelching of gutted man. The boards broke with a crack and snap.

She ducked through and the jagged edge of one caught her cheek. She bled. She didn't care.

She burst free of the other side into the pit with a cry like a thing possessed. She raised the machine gun to obliterate them off the face of the earth. She intended to turn them into pink mist and mess.

But they were dead.

They were all dead.

And Leon Kennedy stood amongst their bodies with the chainsaw sputtering to the end of its life in his bloody hands.

He turned his head over his shoulder as the body of the chainsaw women, bisected from neck to naval, split, plopped, and splattered in a gushing, gory tableau to the ground with her fallen comrades. He grinned in a face flecked with blood. "Dude…this thing RULES ASS!...and kills it…respectively."

And Jill put her hands to face, burst into tears, and sank to her knees amongst the dead bodies.

Leon chucked the chainsaw away to splat in the gore around him.

He raced toward her, terrified.

He slid across the mud on his knees and pulled her in against him.

Jill grabbed at him under his jacket and squeezed him so tight it stole his breath. She wept against his chest, gasping and hiccupping. It should have been a horrible moment….but it was good somehow. It was good.

Because it meant she cared about him.

And it made him funny in his belly to know.

"Jilll…" He breathed her name, laughing a little as he pulled her face back too look at him, "Hey…hey hey hey…I'm good. I'm GREAT. I'm FINE. Jill…I'm ok."

Jill was shaking her head, over and over. She pushed at his chest and rose. She swiped the heels of her hands over her cheeks. "We need to get Ashley. We need to get her. We need to get moving."

He got to his feet and made a grab for her hand. She slapped his away, shaking her head. "Stop. Stop it. Just stop it. I can't do this. I can't. I can't do this with you. Not now. Not ever. This is why I don't do this!"

She was shouting in the rain.

He felt his heart thunder with it. He hadn't been afraid ass deep in bad guys. He was afraid now. Afraid of that look on her face.

"This is why I don't touch men I work with, Leon. This is WHY! I kept seeing your head on the ground beside your body. I kept seeing her on you killing you. I can't do this. I can't." Her voice broke and scared them both. "Don't touch me anymore. Don't look at me. Don't flirt with me. Just don't….just don't. I can't do this and watch you die. Jesus. Jesus Christ…let's get Ashley."

She ducked back under the opening she'd come from.

Leon stood in the rain, feeling his heart pounding.

It was pounding.

How was it possible that it was pounding? At the same fucking time she'd broken it in half?

She was just scared. She was just being irrational. She was just being…a girl.

He ducked after her.

His gloved hand grabbed her arm above the elbow and spun her back to him. A boom of thunder echoed somewhere in the dirty sky. It punctuated the anger on her face.

The fear he understood. The anger he didn't.

"What is this?" He had to shout a little above the boiling storm. "What, Jill? Why are you so mad at me?"

She shook her head. She shook it and jerked at her arm. But he didn't let go. "I don't worry about Chris!" She had to shout too. They were standing in the pouring rain shouting at each other. "I don't worry about him! EVER! Do you know why?"

He looked confused. She felt bad for him, she did, because she was being kinda nuts. And she knew that. He finally answered her, "Enlighten me! You think he's smarter than me? That it? You think I'm gonna go off and get myself killed being stupid?"

"YOU ALMOST DID!" Her shout startled them both. She lowered her voice a little. "Without me here, you'd be DEAD! Do you understand that?! Chris doesn't need me to save him!"

Insulted and feeling the sting of it in his pride, Leon tossed her arm away. "Well good for fucking Chris Redfield! Good for him! Big fucking hero! Then go on! Go back and find him then! Nobody asked you to play mommy to my stupid ass, did they? Go on! Get the fuck out of here then! Go on back to Chris fucking Redfield."

Jill stepped into him and shoved him. She shoved him in the chest and he stumbled. His voice was quiet now and rolling with it. "Don't push me, Jill. I mean it."

"You idiot! Dumbass! Fool! YOU'RE the big hero! Don't you get it? You're always the big hero! You're so brave and stupid and selfless! I don't worry about Chris because he knows how to STAY TOGETHER! He doesn't run off being stupid and brave and heroic!"

She shoved him again and watch the rage of it flash across his face.

"I have NEVER crouched down in the middle of damn mission and starting sobbing! I have NEVER hurt myself trying to save my partner's life like that! I couldn't BREATHE! I couldn't THINK! How the hell can I do this goddamn mission when I'm so FULL OF YOU!?"

They were both breathing heavy now like they'd run miles and miles. They stood in the pouring rain glaring at each other. She said it again, quietly now, "How can I do this when I'm full of you, Leon? This is why I don't touch men I work with. This is why. I can't keep running around afraid of losing you. Jesus Christ. It's like fighting without a fist. It's like an empty gun with no bullets. I'm basically useless."

Quietly, he answered, "Jill…we haven't done anything wrong here. We're just surviving. We're just doing our job. We haven't done anything wrong here."

She held his look now, tortured and sad. "Haven't we? Keep saying it. It won't make it true. Come on, Leon. At least here and now…stop playing games. Sera was right. We can't do this when the tension between us is so thick it's painful. We should split up. Take Ashley to your evac point. I'll go on and try to see what I can find on Saddler. I'll get the BSAA to extract me afterward. You don't need me anymore. You can do this on your own…you just fucking proved that."

Jill turned and he grabbed her arm again to hold on to her. She didn't look at him. She just waited there with her back to him. He said, "Don't be stupid here, Jill. The priority here has to be Ashley Graham. It has to. I'm infected with something. So is she. I NEED you. Please. Don't fall apart on me here. Please."

They stood in the rain for a long moment. He finally filled the silence after a long moment. "I won't die on you."

She lifted her eyes to his face. "You can't promise that."

"No. You're right. I can't promise that. But I can promise you that I'll never make it without you. Stay with me and we can finish this. The rest of it? That's later. It's later when we're safe. Please. "

Thunder rumbled. Lightning slashed a jagged line on the sky. They held eyes. Her face was so angry. His? It just wasn't. He looked stricken and determined.

She was being stupid here. Not him. Her. She was dragging personal shit into their mission. She was making it girly and dramatic and dumb. He was just trying to do his goddamn job and she was making it about her.

A little ashamed, contrite, she finally nodded. "Ok. Ok. But…professional from now on. Ok? Please. That's the only way I can do this."

He finally nodded and whistled. He whistled high and loud with two fingers in his mouth. She jumped a little.

Leon let go of her arm.

"Thank you. I'm sorry. For before. I'm sorry I scared you. I won't do it again."

Jill shook her head at him. "No. Please. It's all me. This? It's me. You're just being you. I'm being stupid. I'm making it more than it is here. I'm making us both crazy with it. It's all me. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I read too much into it. I'm sorry."

He opened his mouth to say something else and Ashley came running toward them.

She gave Leon a long suffering look. "Really? Whistling? Like a dog?"

Leon shrugged a little. "Seemed the right thing to do at the time."

"Kinda degrading, dude. Seriously."

Leon chuckled and gestured with his head. "Come on. Let's hope we get the fuck out of this rain soon."

Ashley nodded. "Right? It's like Seattle here. Nothing but rain, 24/7."

Jill went first. She passed by them and said nothing, moving toward the far door. It was locked but easily picked when she knelt.

Ashley glanced at Leon. She glanced at Jill. She glanced back at Leon.

His face was all kinds of tortured pain. What had happened?

Keeping her peace, she followed them out of the pit. They found themselves at the top of the mountain. Off to one side an enormous gate waited. It had a little bust of an ugly man in it with a retinal scanner. Jill poked it with her finger and shrugged.

The other option was rickety looking rusty lift that reminded Ashley of a ski lift or something. It kept rotating on an endless track with little gondolas for them to stand on while it took them down the cliff to a rusty looking hangar made out of ragged sheet metal.

Like waiting on an escalator, they timed it and stepped on together. It started its downward journey with a chugging of gears and a clickety clack of a pulley on a track. Jill said, quietly, "Leon?"

"Yeah?" His voice was gruff.

Yeah, Ashley thought, trouble in paradise here.

Jill responded, "At your eleven o'clock. Top of the rise."

He sighted down his arm, "I see him. Ashley?"

"Yeah?"

"Duck."

She did.

Leon put a clean shot through the head of the guy on the lookout at the top of the rise on his little metal post. He tumbled into the empty darkness below. Thunder rumbled.

Leon shifted his stance and took down two more before either woman even saw them in the dark. Yeah, Jill thought, the reports were right about him there. He was that good. Give him a couple more years at this, she mused, and he'd probably be the best in the business.

At the waiting platform, three men piled onto one of the gondolas.

Leon shot the first one and sent him tumbling into the dark. Jill peppered the other two with her machine gun and had them dancing like ugly marionettes. They were so busy picking them off they didn't notice the one that jumped on top of the gondola.

It shook from the weight and there was the loud clang of a wrench.

Ashley shouted, "He's trying to break it loose!"

Jill vaulted over the edge of the gondola and swung herself up to the roof of it. It was bold. It was brave. And it was dangerous. Ashley made a sound of fear.

There was the low clang of metal. The shout of the man on the roof. And the grunt of battle. The gondola swung, it pitched. Leon grabbed Ashley and pressed her to the other side.

He grabbed the roof and pushed back. Ashley watched him hoisted himself up. His legs dangled. There was the meaty thunk of fist on flesh and the crunch of bone breaking. She watched the dead body plummet into the darkness.

But they weren't alone anymore.

A man leaped from the opposing gondola across the way and landed in theirs.

Ashley gave a shout of fear and rushed him.

She tackled him and kicked. He staggered and she shoved him in the chest.

He went down into the darkness, screaming.

Leon landed back in the gondola and lifted his brows at her.

Ashley shrugged. "Not just a pretty face."

"Apparently, not. You ok?"

"Yep."

Jill swung back into the gondola. She stumbled, and Leon caught her. Ashley lifted her brows as Jill pulled away from him like he was on fire.

Interesting.

What had happened here?

Leon shook his head and turned away, scanning the horizon.

They stepped off at the bottom onto the steel platform. It clanged as they crossed it together. There was a small room to operate the lift and a set of stairs leading down.

Leon went first, clearing as he moved.

Ashley glanced at Jill. "What did he do?"

Jill lifted her brows. "Who?"

"The piece of ass. What did he do? You look like he farted on your dog."

Jill laughed a little bit. "Nothing. He's great. He's fine."

"Oh, he's fine. No doubt about that. But what did he do? Shoot you down?"

Jill shook her head again. "No. It's not like that. We're partners. That's it."

"Mmhmm. Right. Partners. Sure. I had a lab partner in Tort Law once. He was really good at showing up on time for study group. He NEVER watched my ass when I climbed on top of a gondola…so there was the difference I think."

Jill held the girl's amused gaze. She finally shook her head again and laughed. "Nobody likes a smart ass, Ashley Graham. Just an FYI."

Ashley chuckled a little. "Maybe. But I'm right. I know I'm right. He's all uptight and angry. You're all uptight and edgy. Who's fault is it? My moneys on him."

Jill finally answered her as Leon started back from the small bridge he'd crossed. "Truthfully? It's me. He's been nothing but professional really. I keep…farting on his dog, I guess."

Ashley lifted her brows. "Yeah? What'd you do?"

"I keep staring at his ass. It's fucking with my ability to be professional."

Ashley nodded sagely. "It's a nice ass. I understand the dilemma. You want my humble opinion?"

Jill chuckled again, "Pretty sure I'm going to get it anyway. But why not?"

"We could be dead any minute. Why worry about being professional about it? You want to grab his ass? Grab it. Better to die with your hands full of him then full of nothing." Ashley shrugged a little. "I thought I was dead where I sat before you guys found me. If that guy over there wanted to throw down right now and fuck me stupid? I'd find a dark corner, spread my legs, and offer him some perks of the job. Professionalism be damned. Just sayin, Jill."

Jill considered it as Leon reached them where they stood. "Nothing that way but a dead end. Let's go this way. That's a retinal scanner up there on that gate…"

Jill studied his face. "Yeah?"

"The Big Cheese? He has a fake eye. I'm just betting we need it to get that gate open."

They held gazes now.

Ashley mused, "You want to steal someone's fake eye?"

The question sounded pretty fucking stupid when you said it out loud. But it didn't change anything. It was still what needed to happen.

Leon considered his answer and finally said, "I do. I do indeed. I want to steal an eye from the Big Cheese."

Jill passed by him to head down the hill toward the enormous gate that waited for them. Ashley shook her head a little. Leon watched her go. Ashley watched his face.

Yeah, she thought, professional. Whatever. That guy watched her like Ross from Friends was always staring at Rachel. Friends. Partners. Bullshit.

Ashley mused, "You have a pretty high IQ I bet."

Leon glanced down at her as they walked. "I do."

"What is it?"

Curious, he lifted a brow, "Does it matter?"

"Just bare with me. I'm gonna bet high right? Like Steven Hawking smart?"

"Not exactly," Amused, Leon moved with her in the rain. She could see he was AWARE. Aware for a normal person wasn't the same as for him. He was brilliant. It was written all over him. And yet?

Ashley said, "So you're really smart. Let's say…genius smart. But you're dumb about chics. Is that about right?"

Still amused, he shrugged a little.

"Come on, hot stuff. We're gonna be together for awhile. I'm tenacious like a chihuahua. I'll annoy the shit out of your until you answer."

Leon shook his head a little. "I'm stupid about women. Terminally. And my IQ? It's not Steven Hawking smart. It's fine. It gets the job done."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "I HATE humble hotties. Seriously. Embrace your brains, brother. It's sexy. It makes you smokin hot in a rockin body. You're the catch. Embrace the brains, rock the hair, slay the chics. The trifecta of awesome. That girl up there? She's nuts for you. Don't fuck it up."

Leon shook his head and laughed a little.

They eased through the gate with Jill and Leon clearing the path as they moved through. There was literally nothing waiting for them. Just an enormous barn at the end of a narrow path. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

He said, "Ok…Ashley…hide. And wait here with Jill."

Jill lifted her brows at him, "Don't be stupid."

She took Ashley and moved around the back side of the barn. It was clear save for a pile of firewood against one side and a dumpster. Jill gestured.

Ashley sighed. "Seriously? I'm the President's daughter. You want me to keep hiding in dumpsters?"

Jill lifted her brows at her. "You'd rather face off with the ganados?"

"No. No, I would not." Ashley climbed into the dumpster. Luckily, this one appeared to be only for wood. So it smelled like pine and sap. And it was relatively clean. And? It was dry. So that was a bonus.

Jill said, "Leon will whistle once we've cleared the barn. If we don't come back…." Jill handed her the watch on her wrist. "You go back the way we came and take the gondola up to the gate. That watch has a GPS tracker in it. If I don't check in with my handler in an hour, they will follow that signal and come for me. You hide, wait, and someone WILL come for you."

Ashley held her look. "So, why not just wait for them to come for us now?"

Jill sighed a little, "We have to stop what is happening here, Ashley. And you're still infected with whatever shit they've got at their disposal. We run away and let them finish their plans here? We could be talking global disaster at some point. If you find out a terrorist is building an army, you don't just let him build it. You kill him and dismantle his army. That's what I'm trying to do. Leon's mission is to get you to safety. Mine? Is to stop bioterror. I have to do that."

Ashley nodded a little at her. "Jill?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember what I told you: professionalism be damned sometimes. Grab that ass and get some."

Jill snorted out a laugh and shook her head. She closed the daughter of the most powerful man in the western world into the dumpster to wait. It was an odd day even for her.

She hurried around the front of the dilapidated barn again. Structurally, the bar was decrepit. It was rotting and ruined and falling apart. It was sagging on one side and had clear termite damage in the ancient boards that somewhat held it together. Pieces of steel had been grafted to the boards to try to offer some tensile resistance to collapse without much hope of maintaining the integrity of the building.

It was sloping, implying the foundation was eroding and that sedimentary settling had occurred to allow the building to drift several feet off center down the incline toward the trees beyond. How long would it stand without proper maintenance? She didn't think it matter. Honestly, the whole thing needed a bulldozer and rebuilt.

Leon had his pistol in one hand and was watching the path from which they'd come. He speared a hand back through his soaked hair and showed that face to perfection. Young, she thought, had she forgotten how young he was? She kept thinking of Ashley Graham as a baby.

But Leon Kennedy wasn't much older than his charge. What was he now? 26?

Something like that. He was a too young for this kind of work. Why was he still in it? He should retire and get married and have a half dozen kids. He was a Kennedy. He could marry Ashley Graham and start a dynasty of future Presidents.

Not the daughter of a thief with a cold fish of a ballet dancer for a mother. Who was she kidding here? She was doing them both a favor cutting things off. All the flirting aside, where was this going to go? When the mission was over, he'd be on to the next and so would she. They were better off this way.

What was Chris always saying? Don't shit where you eat. She'd shat right in her Cheerios. She had a mouthful of it now. What a mess.

She said, softly, "Ready?"

He turned to look at her. She didn't like the hurt on his face. She hadn't wanted to hurt him. She just didn't want to care about him. Caring about him was scaring her to death. She needed to do her damn job. She couldn't do that while she was kinda in love with Leon Kennedy.

Jill stopped with her hand on the door handle. She blinked at herself.

What a thought.

Was she in love with Leon Kennedy?

He was standing close behind her ready to clear the barn when the doors were open.

Jill lifted her eyes to his profile.

His eyes shifted to her.

Of the two of the, he was clearly the pretty one. He was all big blue eyes and fantastic hair and killer bone structure. His face was movie star flawless with the Kennedy good looks ingrained in his high cheekbones and patrician nose.

But it wasn't that. Not entirely. Jill said, "I couldn't think of a grate Big Cheese pun so I thought a mature one would brie better."

And that face? It split into a big grin. He actually laughed. And without missing a beat? He said, "Why did the Big Cheese go to the gym?"

"Hmm?"

"To get shredded."

Yep. THAT was it. It was the face and the humor. He was the only person she'd ever met with her sense of humor. All puns and dick and fart jokes. Chris was raunchy dirty jokes and horrible flirting. It was almost offensive if it wasn't so hilarious.

Leon Kennedy was charming with his inept conversation. It was awkward. It was awesome.

Jill shook her head and opened the barn door. They shifted in clearing the hay loft and the ground floor. It was filthy inside. It was cluttered. There were piles of wood to one side and broken crates. A small ladder invited the view to the hayloft to view the heavy support beams that crisscrossed the sagging roof.

But otherwise? Empty.

Leon sighed a little, "Shit! You think I'd stop getting my hopes up by now."

Jill shook her head and climbed up the small ladder. She started poking around in the hayloft. There was a small brown journal tucked under some moldy. Crouching, she opened it up and leafed through it. It was a child's writing: loopy and filled with hearts over the I's. It talked about life on the farm. It talked about chickens and cows. It talked about dreaming of something bigger. And then it got darker. It went into details about Mom and Dad going insane. The mines. The mines were full of ghosts. They were haunted.

And the man in the castle was bad. He was bad. He invited you there and you never came home. The man in the castle was a monster.

Jill started to call down to him and heard the squeak of the door opening. She looked over the edge of the loft and there was the Big Cheese. It had to be the Big Cheese. She hadn't had the pleasure of meeting him yet. But he was…well…HUGE.

He was enormous.

He was so tall it was insane.

In a filthy gray coat with..yep…one nasty eye and one blood shot one. She didn't even get the chance to call out of a warning. Leon turned and the Big Cheese grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his feet. Jill made a sound and couldn't shoot. She couldn't. Not with a machine gun. Not from here.

The Big Cheese lifted Leon and choked him, considering him like a bug on a shoe. He threw him out and away like he was nothing. Jill plugged him with the machine gun the moment Leon was free and clear. Amused, the Big Cheese tilted his head at her and Leon kicked the canister of gasoline on the floor beside him.

It spilled acrid and quick around his ankles. The Big Cheese tilted his head again and shook it with a wry smile. Leon shrugged from the floor and said, " _Hasta luego."_

He fired at the fluid as it spilled along the floor. It lit, sparking, and the fire chased the path from which it had come all the way back to the barrel. Leon rolled and leaped and the barrel ignited.

It exploded with a great burst of noise and pressure. Fire caught on the walls and the floor and the roof. The beam beside Jill was ablaze in moments.

She leaped down from the hayloft and hurried over to help Leon up. The Big Cheese was on fire. He was burning and spinning. And then? Well he was mutating.

His body cracked and popped. It split wetly and expanded. He was suddenly half man, half centipede. His spine elongated and sprouted coxa bug like legs. He grew a second set of spindly bony protrusions out of his back. They had thick low claws on the end that were razor sharp.

His torso was still suspended on the nasty growth of his body. He made a gurgling cry of hunger and wobble walked toward them. Jill shot him in the face until her gun ran dry. He just kept right on coming while he bled and burst with heavy rounds.

They split apart as he smashed those talons down between them. She raced for the ladder and climbed up. Leon rolled around behind him and shot him in the back with his Magnum.

Jill reloaded from the hayloft and dropped to her belly to fire on him.

The Big Cheese roared…split in half.

His legs and hips dropped to the floor with a crunch of bisecting bone.

It didn't matter. Without the legs, he was fast and deadly. He looped his talons over the burning the beams on the roof and swung forward. Leon shot him once in the face and the Big Cheese whipped one taloned arm at him.

He ducked left but still caught the brunt of it on his shoulder and arm. The hit was a slice more than a smack. She watched the blood burst from him as he went down and she whistled.

The Big Cheese turned his attention to her and swung up to the hayloft after her.

Good.

That was good.

She was ready. She waited until he swung over to her and she rolled the flashbang grenade toward him. He glanced down at it and the world went white.

The ringing in her ears was awful but the Big Cheese was blind. Jill dove onto him while he cowered and tried to retreat from the light. She thrust her knife into his face, grabbed him around the neck, and carved out his fake eye while he screamed.

She threw the eye down to Leon on the bottom floor. The Big Cheese whipped around trying to throw her off. She swung around on his neck, dropped her whole weight, and heard the neck snap with a wet pop of bone.

She dropped to the floor and rolled.

The Big Cheese came down with a roar of anger. And breaking the neck of his former body seemed to have only pissed him off. He swung toward her now with a manic scream of rage.

Jill fired on his swinging talons with the machine gun. Muscle and bone erupted with blood and gore. It was enough to send one talon slipping from the beam and spilling the Big Cheese to the firey floor beneath.

Jill ran toward him as he tumbled, she ducked the slashing talon he through at her and rolled across the floor. He swung back for another strike, she skidded into his body, and she jabbed her knife into his face while she came up.

The talon smashed into her and threw her out like a swatted fly.

She was airborne, zipping across the barn at warp speed. She hit the far wall and burst free of the rotting wood. The night closed around her and down she came.

Jill rolled across the mud and hit a tree with her back, finally still.

In the barn, Leon ducked the slapping talon and rolled into the attack range of the Big Cheese. He kicked him twice in his gushing face and pushed. The body was thrown back and into the fire. It screamed, flopping and burning. Leon threw a flashbang at it and ducked, covering his face as the light enveloped the burning barn.

It cowered and burned, screaming and broken.

The barn groaned under the stress of the fire and Leon rolled through the opening Jill had made when she'd been thrown clear. Seconds after he cleared it, the whole damn barn started coming down. The roof caved in with a burst and belch of fire into the soggy sky. The far wall collapsed shortly after like a house of cards.

Leon hurried toward where Jill lay on her side in the mud.

He grabbed her up and rolled her to face him.

The rain spilled soft and wet around them.

She was awake and watching him.

His jacket was ripped at the shoulder. He was bleeding. She lifted her hand and pressed it against the wound. He shook his head at the concern on her face.

"It's ok. It's not deep. I'm ok. Are you alright?"

Jill shook her head.

The rain met the fire behind them in the burning barn and sizzled, hissed, and sent plumes of steam up into the sky. It sounded like water in a frying pan.

She said, softly, "Damn."

He scanned her face in the flickering firelight. "What? What's wrong?"

She sighed a little. She lifted her hand and brushed at the smear of black ash on his cheek. She kept the other on his shoulder, in his blood. And she said, softly, "I don't know how to stop what I'm feeling for you. It's scaring me to death."

He didn't have an answer for her.

He didn't have a single one.

But he felt exactly the same. So, he kept right on holding on while the world burned around them.


	9. Chapter 9

**VIII: Castellan**

* * *

" _ **It's a rare man who can guard against beauty."**_

― _**Anthony Ryan, Queen of Fire**_

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain – 2004**

They took the Big Cheese's fake eye back to the gate that waited for them. The rain seemed to finally, finally, finally be letting up…maybe. The gate opened to a narrow incline that was flanked by high walls of stone.

They took three steps with guns raised and a horn blared. It started sounding with a vengeance. Leon saw the flash of headlights as a big box truck swung blindly around the sharp turn in front of them and started rushing forward. It had a collision course with death written all over it.

Jill and Ashley backed up and Jill grabbed the gate. It had locked behind them. There was no going back.

Ashley whispered, "Oh my god…"

Leon said, quite calmly, "Get down. Now."

She ducked and tucked into the wall. Jill ducked and covered her.

He didn't duck. He sighted down his arm as the driver whipped the wheel and laughed madly, racing toward them. The horn blared again like a death knell.

Leon breathed. He centered himself.

Jill yelled at him, "Leon! Are you crazy!? GET DOWN!"

He didn't.

He waited and the truck spun toward him with mad glee.

Leon lifted one corner of his mouth in a smile…and pulled the trigger. Just once. Just one shot. It splattered brains on the seat behind it as it hit the driver right between the eyes. His dead body fell on the wheel, the truck lost control as the body jerked the wheel hard, the tires spun and tipped to one side. Leon stood as it whipped and cornered wildly and passed a foot in front of him to smash into the wall with a crunch of steel, a collapse of the engine made of the WHOOSH and SMASH of fire and destruction, and the click click click and sputter of a dying fan belt.

The wall shook and tried to collapse beneath the assault but held on.

The night was quiet now save for the sizzle and hiss of rain on fire from the flaming engine.

Jill and Ashley got to their feet, staring at him.

Leon finally lowered his arms to his side. He relaxed his stance. "What?"

Ashley blinked.

Jill shook her head.

He tried again, "What?"

Ashley whispered, "James Bond."

Leon shook his head with an eye-roll. "Stop it. Let's keep moving."

Jill glanced down at Ashley as he moved forward to clear the path. She replied, softly, "Yeah. James Bond."

"Yep."

They started after him and the gate from which they came made a sound. It squealed on rusty hinges…and fifty ganados were now piling through the gate after them. Ashley and Jill were suddenly running without needing to be prompted.

The three of them took flight up the incline and came to a bridge that a crossed the great divide. The castle waited on the other side, beckoning them. Without any choice, they raced across.

Leon and Jill ran for opposing sides and started cranking the drawbridge pulleys to raise it. It sealed them in, yes it did, but it also sealed the ganados out. So, it was, surely, the better option. Surely.

Really…how bad could it be? Maybe they'd get lucky and the castellan would offer them help until their evacuation could happen. Leon snorted a little. And maybe the moon was made out of green cheese. And maybe the castle was Hogwarts and the castellan was Albus Dumbledore. Maybe the nasty troll he'd faced was even now being dragged into the forest by satyrs.

Amused, he shook his head.

They turned into a small courtyard and eased through it.

It was lovely, in the way of such things. The walls were clearly ancient but in good repair. They climbed large and imposing and offered safety to the those who dwelled within. The moon was peeking through the clouds now as the rain finally left them alone and went about its business elsewhere.

When they'd cleared the courtyard, Leon waved them to be still for a minute while he checked in with Hunnigan and gave her an update. Jill did the same with Chris while Ashley poked around a little guardhouse to try to find some first aid supplies.

Leon shed his jacket and tossed it over a chair in the guardhouse. His shirt clung to him like glue. It was split and ragged at one shoulder and blood seeped from the ugly wound.

Jill shook her head and took the gauze and bandage that Ashley handed her.

She said, quietly, "Take this off and let's treat it."

Leon hissed but eased his shoulder holster off to dangle around his hips. He gripped his shirt behind his head and peeled it off.

Ashley didn't even pretend NOT to stare. She settled on a heavy barrel in the corner and perched her chin in her hand, watching the show.

Amused, Jill dug out the hemostatic medicine in her pouch. She settled him in as much torchlight as possible and touched the wound with the antiseptic solution in her hand. He hissed and his stomach muscles bunched with it.

It was…it was a good show. Admittedly.

Jill dabbed gently at the slash. She tugged her wet ball cap off to be able to see better and focused on the wound. She did NOT focus on the swell of his chest or the ridiculous muscles of his arms. Nope. Not even a little bit.

Snorting at herself, she cleaned the blood while he watched her face.

He said, quietly, "I can do that, Jill. You don't have to."

She turned her face, just a little, to meet his eyes and their noses bumped.

Her face went hot… which annoyed her. She flushed but shook her head. The wound was shallow but weeping so she put the hemostatic powder over it and carefully covered it with gauze. Her fingers brushed his biceps and collarbone as she bound it. She watched the goosebumps pop on his skin.

It was cold, she qualified by way of excusing it, it was just cold outside. Too cold to be shirtless. That explained the state of his nipples too. Yep. That's why his nipples were hard. He was cold.

She taped the gauze gently to him. Why did he have to keep his face so close to hers? Couldn't he look away and do her a favor here? Damn him.

She said, quietly, "You have another shirt by chance?"

He shook his head.

His voice was almost a whisper, "All done?"

Don't look, her mind screamed, but she turned her eyes to his and their noses brushed again. Her hand slipped from the bandage, just a little, just enough to brush over one of those excited nipples. And she watched him inhale, just a little, sharply. Jesus.

She was going to probably drop dead for the want of him.

Jesus.

Her mouth was maybe an inch from his. She whispered, "Yeah…I think I'm done."

His eyes flicked from hers to her mouth and back again. He answered, low and gruff, "Yeah. I kinda think I'm done here too."

Shit.

Ashley cleared her throat.

They both jumped.

Jill was the color of a tomato. The back of his neck was flushed pink. Ashley laughed a little and leaped off the barrel. She shook her head at them and stepped out of the guard house.

Really, she mused, it was more entertaining than a soap opera in there.

Idiots.

They needed to bump uglies and get it over with already.

Jill stepped up beside her, face still pink and warm. Ashley lifted a brow at her. "Girl…you dumb."

Jill shook her head, laughing. She tucked her ball cap back onto her. "Shut up, Graham. Just shut up."

And Ashley laughed a little.

In the guardhouse, Leon rolled his neck and shoulders. He crossed his hands behind his neck and stretched it out. He slipped on his wet shirt and left the jacket. It was trashed anyway. Of course, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to get too fa—

There was a pile of clothing on the floor of the guardhouse beside some barrels. Interested, Leon moved toward it. It was, apparently, loot taken off of poor sad victims of the ganados.

A series of things waited for attention. Most of it was crap and useless. But not all of it.

He traded out his ruined shirt for a black one in the pile. It was plain cotton and not nearly as warm but it was clean. And it was even the best part of the pile. There was a tactical vest amongst it. Clearly, one of their victims had been military of some kind.

Leon strapped it on and adjusted it. And the fun got better. It got A LOT better. Because under the pile of clothes was a beautiful single barrel riot gun. The shotgun might as well have been a big hug. It felt like one as he picked it up, jacked a round into it with one hand, and sighted down it to be sure it was in good shape.

It was a gift.

And the vest was loaded with ammo for it.

What kind of morons just left this shit lying around for someone to find?

He stuck his head out of the door. "Jill?"

"Mmm?"

Her cheeks were still pink.

It warmed his guts to see it.

Casually, he intoned, "There are some clean clothes in here for you guys if you want to trade out the wet stuff."

Ashley was already nodding and shedding her wet jacket. She kept on her other clothing but changed jackets happily. Jill switched out her wet weather top for a skinny little red jacket and a white tank top mixed in the selection of things.

She fixed her ponytail and left the soggy ball cap behind.

Without it, her face was flawless. He wanted to stare at her until he went blind. But instead, he watched her settle a small pistol into the small of her back and join him as they mounted the only set of stairs in the courtyard and eased their way into the castle.

Beautiful red carpet spilled lushly up a small flight of stairs in the grand foyer. There was no one waiting there for them. It was all tapestries and lovely stone busts that dangled beautifully and artfully from the ceiling. A chandelier dangled with a glittering crystal and flickering firelight and was at least twenty feet in diameter in the vaulted ceilings. The stonework was clean and perfectly maintained. The castle itself was clearly loved and exquisitely kept.

They eased down the wide open foyer and a small laugh filled the room with them.

Leon froze and put his arm out. Ashley stepped behind him. Jill stood beside him, eyeing the small…man….that waited up on the balcony above the grand hallway. He was a clearly a dwarf and had a little annoying laugh that was grating cackle.

He called down to them, "WELCOME!"

It was impossible to judge his age. He was the size of a ten-year-old boy. He had the wrinkly face and hair of an old man. He wore a hat and dress coat like the colonial militia in pale blue velvet with a shiny gold vest beneath. He was a midget Paul Revere.

It was surreal.

He had two…bodyguards that stood with him. They were cloaked in gray and red and hooded. They had the longest hands and fingers Jill had ever seen. And only little red eyes glaring from the darkness of their hoods.

From the balcony, the man was giggling at them. "Welcome, welcome my brethren! I have been anxiously awaiting you! Have you come to join us?"

Leon tilted his head a little. "No thanks, bro. Who the hell are you?"

Jill was easing her hand around her back toward her gun there. Leon touched her arm without looking at her. She paused, considering.

" _Me llamo_ Ramon Salazar! I am the 8th Castellan of this SUBLIME structure in which you find yourselves. I have been given…amazing powers by the _magnifico_ Lord SADDLER!" He was pretty exciting for a colonial smurf. And the answer to whether or not he was a bad guy was answered, just like that.

Leon laughed a little. "FYI _bro —_ Saddler's a putz. And so are you if you follow him."

Salazar giggled again. "You are here to be a hostage, Mr. Scott. But I don't need you. You aren't worth a penny, it seems. Only the President's daughter is useful to us."

Salazar tilted his head a little. "Your companion in red…does not carry…our gift. She is LESS than a penny. I will enjoy killing her and you if you stand in our way. So, flee. Fight..die…it matters not. Eventually? You will turn and become one of us…or you will die screaming…either way? You won't last long here."

He cackled and giggled and disappeared down the balcony from where he'd come. Leon started forward and the walls shook. The floor shook. And an enormous wall slid down to block the hallway and the balcony. It was graced with a mural…that was missing stone pieces from its face. It was the pieces to create a chimera: one part serpent, one part lion, one part goat. The pieces were missing and waiting to return to their place amongst the stone mural.

Jill shook her head, sighing a little, "Naturally…naturally a fucking puzzle."

Ashley lifted her brows at them. "A puzzle?"

"Yeah." Leon sighed a little and glanced around the foyer. There was a door to either side. The left door was locked tight but the right was open and waiting for them. He gestured with his head and they eased into a narrow hallway done in ugly old paintings and faded red carpet. Lanterns hung suspended from the ceiling and swayed to cast flickers of light around a darkened room.

To their left, a small staircase offered the viewer the chance to descend down into what appeared to be a stone cellar. The door was locked though and they were prevented from going down to search amongst the contents. You could see into the cellar through a few narrow stone cutouts along the walls.

With no other choice, they moved down the narrow hallway and came face to face with a roaring fire. It spit madly from the mouths of two stone serpents that curled up from the floor. They blew their firey rage down upon the person who dared cross their path.

Hanging on the hand of a tiny boy in a painting beside them, a big square key beckoned.

Jill picked it up and met his eyes.

Leon sighed a little, "Too easy right?"

"Yeah…too easy." They held gazes.

Ashley glanced between them. "What?"

Jill said, "This key will open that damn cellar door back there. I'm guessing the lever to stop that fire is going to be inside the cellar."

Leon nodded a little. "Yep. I'll go. You two wait here."

He opened his palm for the key.

Jill held his gaze and shook her head. She started back toward the cellar.

Leon licked his teeth with annoyance. "Give me the key, Jill."

"Don't be stupid. Protect your charge. I'll flip the lever." She used the big key on the cellar door and it clicked. She eased it open, clearing the stairs beyond as she moved.

Leon shook his head and followed her. Ashley, unwilling to be left behind, eased in after them. Jill said, "WAIT here, Ashley. Right here. Do not move."

She moved down the stairs while Ashley waited, brows lifted. Leon licked his teeth again.

He eased down after Jill. They cleared as they went but the cellar was empty. Nothing but stone and silence…and a lever on the wall beyond a set of bars…inside a cell.

Not a cellar…a prison.

Because there was a…man? There was a man bound to the wall beside the lever. His eyes were missing and nothing but scars in a battered face. His arms were crossed over his massively muscled chest. The wrists were crossed before him like Wolverine…the claws on his hands were like Wolverine as well. Massive. Sharp. They glittered like polished steel in the flickering torchlight.

He was shirtless, save for a black leather collar draped over his neck and collarbone, and a pair of leather pants. The claws on his hands were at least as long as the legs of a man. They were insane. His face was battered within the iron helmet someone had strapped on his face. It left his ruined eyes visible; his mouth covered.

Leon muttered, "How'd you like a hug from that guy?"

Jill went to kick the gate down that blocked them from the lever. And the man bound to the wall with shackles around his chest and ankles. Leon grabbed her arm and tugged her back.

She glared at him.

He lifted a brow. "You kidding? That thing will eviscerate you."

"You got a better idea? I'm all ears."

Leon held her angry look. "You'll be nothing BUT ears if he gets you with one of those claws, Jill. He'll carve your fucking face off."

Jill jerked her arm free from him. "So? Does it matter? Then you wouldn't be forced to look at me anymore. So everybody wins right?"

He licked his teeth again, annoyed. Shaking his head, with a mirthless laugh, Leon let her go. He gestured broadly with his hand. "You know what? Whatever. Go for it. What the hell do I know right? Suit yourself here."

Leon swung the shotgun up and backed up as far as he could. He fixed it on the man against the wall. "Go ahead, tough guy. Knock yourself out."

Jill kicked the gate. It collapsed to the ground with a loud clatter of iron.

The man didn't move. He remained motionless on the wall.

Jill lifted her brows at Leon. He held her look with a droll expression. She moved toward the lever, slowly, her pistol aimed with one hand at the man in shackles.

She grabbed the handle of the lever and pulled it down. They heard a click, a whir, and what was likely the fire dying above them in the long hallway.

She eased back, gun still aimed at the man on the wall.

Smug, she finally turned and grinned at Leon. "See? He's bound. You were worried about nothing. I don't need you to be a fucking hero here."

She saw the moment his eyes flicked over her head. She felt the world slow down. She heard Ashley cry out on the stairs. There was a burst of metal releasing, the clank of shackles on stone, and Leon's arm came up with the shotgun.

"GET DOWN, JILL!"

She was already dropping as he roared the command.

The claws split the air inches above her head. She felt the wind of it on her face. She rolled, skidding through the motion. The shotgun blast was a second behind the swipe.

It took the man in the chest with a bucking boom of sound.

Blood burst in a red wash. It splattered the stone like paint.

Jill scrambled, rather ungracefully, and the man with claws made sound kind of mechanical battle cry. It sounded like a synthesizer or something. A cyborg? Something.

The shotgun blast just pissed it off.

It rushed toward Leon with a speed that was beyond frightening.

It didn't even care about Jill anymore. It raced right passed her. She threw her leg out and tripped it as it ran. It stumbled, staggered, and Leon blasted it again in the face this time with the shotgun.

It righted itself and raced for him again. Leon shot it a third time and ducked at the last possible second. It scared the living shit out of her.

The claws missed his head, took a hunk of his hair with it, and imbedded into the stone wall beyond him. They stuck there with a squeal of metal. Leon rolled up behind the man while it made that metallic cry of sound and jerked on its lodged claw.

There was an enormous mound of scar tissue on its naked back. It was…in the shape of a parasite. A parasite like the plagas they'd seen. Leon put the shotgun point blank against it and pulled the trigger.

The gun bucked in his hands and tore the scar tissue to pieces. It erupted with blood that steamed in the cool air. The thing burst out of the mound tissue and waved madly.

Leon angled the shotgun up at it and the man jerked his arm free from the wall. Jill shouted and tried to get a shot but Leon was blocking the way. The world went too slow.

The man spun, Leon ducked, and he wasn't fast enough. Those claws smashed into him and threw him out and away. He went up, went airborne, and smashed into the far wall.

The man rushed him, making that metallic chittering cry. The thing on its back waved enthusiastically like a nasty, spiny bug. Jill shot it while he rushed Leon.

He reversed and raced at her. And she got it.

Just like that.

She got it.

It was blind.

But it wasn't deaf. It had exceptional hearing. It was BLIND.

Silently, she shifted. She eased across the floor and watched the man race toward where she'd been. It reached the spot and whipped its head wildly. She shot the parasite on its back again while it tossed its head madly.

The man roared that sound and rushed her. She shifted again; shot it in the back. She eased her way around the room, keeping it from Leon where he was slumped against the wall.

It worked perfectly…until he groaned.

He groaned against the wall and the man spun, threw his claws to the side, and lifted his head toward the ceiling to emit that horrible sound. He raced toward Leon who was struggling to his feet against the wall.

With no other choice, Jill whistled.

Two feet from taking Leon's head off his shoulders, the man spun back toward her.

"YEAH!" She shouted at him now. "Over here, assface! Here! Come and get me!"

He raced toward her. She waited and braced. And the man drew back his arm and threw a straight at her like he'd spit her on those claws and make her a human shish kabob. She dropped down into the splits on the dirty ground, the claws missed her shoulder by an inch, and they imbedded into the wall above her head.

Leon was on one knee. She nodded at him.

He swung the shotgun up and shot the man in the back. The parasite started waving and Jill rolled to her feet and drove her knife into it. She flourished it with a series of sharp jabs and slashes.

The man jerked his claws free and Leon hit him in the back with one more heavy shotgun round.

Blood splattered. The shotgun clicked empty. The man spun and Jill rolled away. Those claws swung down at her and Leon came up under his arm and threw it off course.

The claws missed Jill by a hairsbreadth. The man teetered and Leon spun a back kick at him and sent him staggering. Jill ran around and shot him in the back again.

The man tottered forward and Leon crouched, put his shoulder into that broad belly, and pushed. It threw him over his back.

Jill grabbed Leon's vest and jerked him forward as the man went up and over. The claws sliced the air where he'd been, Leon collapsed atop Jill and took them both to the floor, and Jill shot the man in the back as they fell.

There was a final mechanical cry and a hiss of releasing pressure. The parasite went still with a whip of death spasm and the room was quiet again.

Underneath him on the floor, Jill whispered, "I'm sorry. I was being stupid. I was being stupid and angry. I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

He leaned up to look down at her. Quietly, he said, "I'm alright. Stop being mad at me, Jill. I don't even understand why you are. Stop punishing me for something that isn't my fault."

She nodded, harsh and quick. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm blaming you for being you. It's utterly fucking stupid."

He was still smooshing her into the floor. One of them should really move.

Leon said quietly, "What does that even mean?"

Jill looked at his face from inches away and said, "It means this." And slid her hands over his back until she gripped his ass. He made a sound and she ground their bodies a little together. It was either instinct or desperation or utter insanity that had him thrusting against her while she did it.

They both flushed with it. Jill whispered, "Yeah. Yeah. It's THAT."

Murmuring, Leon answered, "Yeah. THAT. That is bad."

"Bad."

"Bad bad bad."

Jill laughed a little, breathlessly. He shook his head with a small sound that might have been a derisive chuckle. Screwed. They were screwed. But, sadly, no one was screwed here. And that was part of the problem.

On the stairs, Ashley laughed loudly, "Seriously? Now!? NOW is when you grab that ass? There's a DEAD body six inches behind ya'll. Seriously!?"

They separated, both red-faced and breathing a little heavy.

Embarrassed, Jill picked up the shotgun and offered it back to him. Leon laughed a little and reloaded it, shaking his head. "I'm fifteen fucking years old again. Shit."

Jill had to laugh. She had to. It was ridiculous. Ashley Graham was on the stairs smirking.

"You guys fight a mutated Marvel superhero gone bad and then grope each other on the bloody floor. I don't know about you, but I wasn't doing that kind of shit at fifteen."

Chastised, they eased their way out of the prison and out toward the hallway. The fire was gone and the door at the end opened into a beautiful room with a lovely pool beneath it. The water glistened with a glassy flawless beauty. There was a second level above where they stood. It was a balcony that ran the length of the long corridor.

Torches flickered along the beautiful red and gold carpet that covered the cold gray stone. Urns lined the naked walls. Their fat bellies were filled with dirt and flowers that burst colorful and well tended from the dark depths. The room was lovely. The pool of water pearlescent.

The only draw back was that there was no way across the glistening water to the other side.

Jill studied the depths of it.

Leon was scanning the balcony walk above them.

Ashley was engrossed in the ugly portrait that looked down at her on the outcropping to her left. The man in it was all kinds of fugly. He was clearly meant to be the man from the church. But the portrait had been painted by someone without any real skill. Somehow they'd managed to make him even uglier than he actually was.

Leon said, conversationally, over his shoulder, "You're making it kinda difficult to be professional, Jill."

Jill jumped like he'd smacked her ass. She glanced at his back where he was scanning the walkway. She sighed a little, "I'm sorry. I said it twice. I don't know what else I can say. You don't have to believe me because you don't even really know me, but I'm NOT a woman that gropes guys on a mission. I swear to god I'm not. I'm trying to figure out why you're all tangled up inside of me. There's really no reason for it. Seriously. I mean…sure…there's the looks. Which are…"

He glanced over his shoulder at her. She was facing the water. And she kept on talking.

"Which are great. Which are good. Really good. But kinda superfluous too. Because handsome is a dime a dozen right? And there's the sense of humor which…is like mine. Kinda lame. A little juvenile. Almost uncomfortably dorky right? And it's the body too. The body…HAH. Oy the body." She laughed a little and tried to judge the depth of the water in the pool. Maybe they could swim over. "You just keep flashing that fucking body of yours around like a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit chic or something to a horny teenage boy. I'm the boy in this situation. I'M the fifteen year old boy. Fucking embarrassing. I keep putting my hands on you like a rapist or a pervert or something. You poor man. I can understand your anger at me. I'm being stupid."

He stepped up beside her and she went stiff, staring straight ahead like she'd turn to stone if she turned to look at him.

He finally said, "When I was taking that boat across the lake…I was thinking about your ass."

Jill blinked.

"Oh, yeah," He laughed a little, "I was picturing your ass. I kept imagining your thighs pressed against my ears while I put my mouth on you and wondered if you tasted like apple pie between them."

Shit. She shifted where she stood, feeling the image of that in her pants.

They did NOT look at each other.

Leon laughed again, sorta desperately, "I was so busy picturing my hands on your tits that I wasn't doing my job. I wasn't paying attention. And it nearly got me killed."

They both shifted where they stood again.

He said, softly, "I want your hands on me. I want my hands on you. I'm not angry about that. I can't figure out why you are."

Jill sighed a little. She finally glanced at him and said, "I'm afraid that once I let you in, I won't be able to get you out of me. And with what we do? How does that work for either of us? I can't keep you. So instead I keep trying to make sure I don't even crave you. The bad news is that I can't seem to stop."

Leon glanced at her face as well. They held eyes now. "I can be professional here, Jill. I'm trying. If that's what you want, I'll keep trying. But you're making it hard for me to do that. You keep saying things that make me crave you too. I can do this craving you. I can still do the job. But I can back off too. Tell me what you want here."

Jill met his look squarely now. "I want to do this job. I want to finish it. I've never struggled with that before now. I've never questioned myself or my motives for doing my job. Ever. But I'm doing that now. Because I don't know why I'm pushing so hard anymore, Leon. Is it for me? Or is it for you? Am I trying to impress you? I just don't know. You confuse me. I don't know what to do about that."

He sighed a little. "Ditto. And me either. But I think one part of that? I think it's ok. It's making us push harder, Jill. In one hand? It's a bonus. We just…need to get our heads out of collective hormones long enough to remember what we're doing here."

She shifted. "Agreed. How?"

He laughed a little and shrugged. "I'm guessing we start by protecting that girl with us. After that? We figure it out. But you gotta stop blowing hot and cold and back and forth on me here. It's rubbing me raw. It's making me edgy. It's making us both nuts here. I can handle my dick being stiff as a rock every time I look at you. But you've got to stop blaming me for it."

Her eyes dropped and landed on his groin. She didn't even realize she was doing it until he laughed, a little breathy, "That's not helping."

Her eyes darted back to his face. "I'm sorry. Shit." And now she laughed. "Fuck. It's nuts, right? This thing happening with us is nuts."

"It's IN my nuts, that part is for sure." And now they both laughed a little. It was good, she thought, to talk about it. Maybe addressing it was how they put it to bed and did the job. The tension would NEVER back off if they kept denying it.

There was movement up on the walkway.

They both looked up to find Ashley turning a crank. A metallic grind of gears turned Jill's attention to the water. And a platform was rising from the water to offer the solution they'd been blind too. Apparently, while they were coveting each other, the President's daughter was doing their job.

Jill opened her mouth to crack a joke and there was the sound of doors opening.

Just like that: they were no longer alone.

The room began to fill with men in robes. They wore black and red robes and were chanting. The word sounded like _muerte._ Which was the Spanish word for death. They were chanting death as they advanced.

There were four up top. There were ten on the main level with them. They had scythes. They had shields. They had…flails.

Leon shot two of them in the head before Jill could do more than stare.

Gathering herself, she ran for it. She boosted herself up to the walkway as Ashley shouted and ran from the ones that advanced on her.

Jill kicked the first one she came up on off the walkway and spun low to miss being grabbed by another.

On the main level, Leon was picking them off and backing up. When the Magnum went dry. He swung the shotgun up and blasted the first one with a shield. They staggered and went to one knee. He shot them again to send them down on their back in a heap.

Jill leap frogged beautifully over the shoulders of one in front of Ashley and spun a back kick at him. He flailed, she jerked the scythe from him and swung it. It hit neck, sliced through bone, and cleaved neck and head from each other in a spray of blood.

She whistled, Leon glanced up, and she tossed it down to him.

He caught it, braced, and swung it. It caught two of them across the neck and chest in a lovely burst of blood and shouting. Jill shot the third one to his right between the eyes while he hacked.

Ashley let out of a cry as she was lifted, kicking and fighting, over the shoulders of one of the ones in red. He wore a mask made a goats skull. The horns jutted out from the naked bone. He carried her over his massive shoulder while she struggled without any signs of caring.

Jill shot him in the knee from behind. He went down and spilled the girl to the floor beside him. Ashley kicked him twice in the face and chest from the ground and scrambled away, running for it.

The shotgun went off again on the main level and Leon blasted another three of them back from him. They'd forced him back to the water now. Ashley reached the crank on the other side and started rolling it.

Jill whistled and tossed a flashbang down into the mess of them advancing on Leon.

It went off and Leon started swinging the scythe with a vengeance. It was beautiful, in a purely visceral way. He cleaved and killed like the grim reaper. He took no prisoners, left no man standing, and just decimated them in all with a natural killer instinct. Where he struck; they fell. Where he swung; they died. It was almost like a dance between one partner and another. Only this dance ended in blood and destruction.

Jill vaulted over the side to the ground beneath when the silence fell around them.

Ashley eased over the edge and Leon caught her.

They carefully crossed the platforms that waited to guide them out of the long corridor and found themselves in another hallway. This one had stone busts that dangled from the ceiling in a somehow beautiful display of craftsmanship.

The long corridor eased before them, lit by red and blue torches. It was less exquisite here. It felt vaguely claustrophobic. There was an edge to it that breathed…cult. Maybe it was the columns that reminded one of altars. Maybe it was the robes. Maybe it was the chanting.

But "the enlightened ones" were clearly worshiping something terrifying and surreal.

Leon said as if someone had asked, "The hornless goat is traditionally a human sacrifice. The use of the chimera: goat, serpent, lion…denotes the combining of the three parts of their belief, clearly, some form of justice, wisdom, and likely guardianship. They wear goat masks…assuming that the goat mask wearing ones are cult leaders of some kind."

Jill glanced up at him as they moved down the corridor. She watched him work the puzzle of it in his mind. There was that feeling again. More than a pretty face. More than that body. It was HIM. It was that brain of his. It was ALWAYS working something out.

He mused, "Is the goat wisdom? Is the hornless goat a sacrifice for wisdom? Death, they chanted, are they worshiping death? Are they offering it to whatever god they serve? I wish I knew."

Jill smiled a little. "You'd be the only person I know who'd care that much, Leon. They are terrorists, in a way. They are fanatics. Does it do any good to try to figure out what drives zealots to their insanity?"

He glanced down at her. He looked introspective. "Yeah. It matters, Jill. You have to know your enemy to defeat them. You can't just toss a grenade and walk away. You have to know what it is you're destroying to make sure it doesn't rise again from its own ashes."

She stopped to say something else and the door beside them opened. They both turned, guns aimed.

Luis Sera came through the door with hands up.

"Hey hey! _Que pasa?_ "

Jill lowered her gun. Leon didn't.

Sera stopped, head tilted. " _Amigo?_ "

Leon said, "Start talking, Sera. Now. How long you been working for Saddler?"

Intrigued, Sera grinned a little. "Damn. How did you know? Who spilled the beans? And why are you so smart? Americanos. _Intelligente."_

Leon kept the gun on him. Ashley and Jill stepped back a little.

Leon answered, "I started suspecting it when we first met actually. I had my handler do some digging. Turns out you left the Madrid P.D. because of some rumors that you'd been dealing dirty on the side. The last speculation had you stealing a sample from the lab. But no one could prove it. And no one could find you again to question you about it. Convenient. Wouldn't you say? You mentioned seeing a sample of the T-Virus. That raised the first red flag. You sell the sample to Saddler?"

Sera grinned again. "Close. But no cigar. I didn't sell Saddler anything. He hired me after I left the force to do research for him. The sample that went missing in the lab wasn't stolen by me. I left to pursue the man who did take it. I didn't find him. I couldn't. But I started working with Saddler. When I found out he was making BOWS, well…even I have my moments of being a hero, _amigo."_

Sera winked at Jill who rolled her eyes.

"I brought you a gift to prove it." He patted his vest and crinkled his forehead. With a sigh, he turned back the way he'd come. "Shit. I must have lost it running from them. I will go back for it. But I'm not the bad guy here, Leon. We're on the same side…I have to go back for what I lost. I'll catch up to you again, I promise. Look…inside the chest in the storage room beyond the caves. If you make it that far…I left my research, there. Take it with you. You'll see what I mean. I'm not a bad guy. I'm just a _pendejo_ trying to make it right."

Sera studied Leon and his gun. "You won't shoot me. You're a good guy. Good guys don't shoot unless they have to. I'll catch up."

Jill said, "Hey. I'll come with you."

Sera tilted his head, studying her. Leon glanced at her too.

Finally, Luis shook his head, "Tempting. Tempting. I enjoy the company of beautiful women. But you stay with, Leon. He's better with the ladies, no? I won't be long."

And Sera was gone through the door he'd come from.

Leon lowered the gun, sighing. "I don't know what to think about that guy. Is he fucking with us? Is he legit? Who the hell knows."

Ashley said, "He seems like a weirdo, no lie there. But I don't get a bad guy vibe from him. A creeper who looks up your dress with a mirror? Maybe. A bad guy? No."

Jill nodded, "Agreed."

Ashley said, "He may have a point about S—" And she started hacking. It was bad hacking. It was wet like pneumonia and fluid in the lungs hacking. She coughed so hard she spattered her hands with blood from it.

Leon went to touch her and she knocked his hands away.

"Oh god…oh my god…" She shook her head, she panicked, she backed up from them, "Don't touch me. Don't. Get away from me…before I turn into one of those things and kill you! Oh god!"

She turned and ran down the long hallway in front of them.

Leon and Jill rushed after her.

Jill called, "Ashley! Honey, stop!"

Ashley turned back to say something, and the floor shook. They staggered. Enormous spears of metal drove up from the floor beneath them. Leon barely ripped Jill back and they jutted up where she'd been a moment before. They kept on driving them apart. They were spears, bursting forth from the triggered mechanism clearly within the confines of the stone.

Ashley was forced to the end of the hallway, Leon and Jill were forced the other way.

Ashley threw herself against the wall and flattened there. "What the hell!?"

Leon called, "Wait there! Don't MOVE!"

Shackles burst from the wall and slapped over her, binding here with a clang of steel. Ashley cried out, terrified, "Leon!?"

The wall groaned, it grated with a whir of gears, and it spun – taking her away from them in a single bold move. Ashley could be heard crying out on the other side.

Leon shouted, "Don't panic, Ashley! Don't panic! We're comin for ya!"

And, just like that, they were alone in the hallway.

The spears sank into the floor and silence pervaded.

Jill whispered, softly, "Oh my god. We have to get her back. We have to find her."

"We'll find her. They won't hurt her. They need her alive to extort money from the President. They won't hurt her. And they won't stop us." He glanced at the door way beside them. "You with me?"

Surprised, she met his eyes. "Of course. Where else would I be?"

He lifted a brow at her, "You seemed all hot and bothered to chase after Luis back there."

She blinked at him. What was that in his voice? What was it?

Jealousy?

Warm in her belly, Jill answered, "It seemed wise to not let a potential traitor loose to run around behind our backs. I figured: better to tag along with the enemy than leave him to his own devices."

Leon shrugged a little, refusing to look at her.

Jill considered him as he eased open the door in the wall beside where Ashley had disappeared. She stopped him with a hand on his arm. He paused, glancing at her face finally.

She said, "Give me your hand."

He lifted a brow but offered her his left hand. She spread his fingers over her chest and slightly inside the white tank top she was wearing. He could feel the hammer of her heartbeat there beneath her breast. Speaking of breast, he mused, if he shifted his hand just a little to the right...he'd be able to cup one in his hand.

Jill's voice was terribly amused as she instructed, "Eyes up here, hotshot."

And Leon darted his eyes from her breasts to her face.

Her eyes twinkled. "I didn't just run five miles right?"

He lifted a brow at her. "Not in recent memory."

"Yeah. Exactly. So that hammering heartbeat happening there? That's all YOU. That's how it feels whenever I'm around you. All the time. Don't be jealous of that idiot."

They held eyes for a long moment. Somewhere in the castle, Ashley Graham was waiting for them. They did NOT have time for romance. Dancing around each other was killing them both.

And yet he still wanted to slide his damn hand down and cup her breast. It was monumentally insane being a guy sometimes. The dumbstick was the master of his existence. Clearly. Genius IQ his ass. He was just a guy with a crush. And it was making him stupid for her.

He dropped his hand. She stepped back a little.

And he said, "Ok. Shit."

Jill lifted a brow at him now. "I don't really have to. But I can give it a shot."

Leon laughed and shook his head. She snickered a little. It broke the tension like someone had farted.

He held her eyes now, "Let's get the President's daughter and get the fuck out of here."

"I think I like that idea better than shitting. Just saying."

He was kinda laughing as they opened the door and cleared through it to the other side. And she was kinda laughing too as she followed him through the door...and she was kinda looking at his ass too.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N:_

 _Artistic license says I won't be going into every single part of the game here. I'm going to skip some parts and amend others. It's how I keep things flowing. Thanks for reading!_

 _Slainte._

… _._

* * *

 **IX: ABDUCTION**

* * *

 **"We hunger in earnest for that which we cannot consume."**  
 **― Nenia Campbell, Black Beast**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain – 2004**

The door led them into what felt like some kind of underground prison. It was structurally decrepit and falling apart. It had water infiltration that signified exposure to the elements. It meant the castle wasn't as secure as they'd thought.

The cells along the walls were falling down on themselves. The bars were lying discarded on the floor or had sunk into the stone beneath them. The rock was dripping and moldy in places. You could hear water infiltrating somewhere in the distance.

Leon took a step forward, the shotgun aimed, and stepped in something squishy.

He glanced down and then over at Jill.

She eyed it and shrugged.

The floor was eroded toward the center of the prison block before them. It spilled into a pit filled with water. Jill moved to look into the murky water.

She glanced back at him. "We need to get across here. Clearly."

Leon opened his mouth to say something and the air shimmered over her. He hoisted the shotgun, she blinked, and he aimed it at her face. Her hands came up, she backed up, "Leon?"

And he fired.

Jill dropped, crying out, but he wasn't shooting her.

Nope.

Something fell to the floor behind her, scrambling and screeching. She rolled away, jumping to her feet as the shimmery thing became invisible. It was…a bug. A bug or something. It was a mutated cricket with enormous claws and glowing green eyes. It flashed in and out of camouflage without even trying.

Jill straddled it and stabbed it clean in the exposed under carriage.

With a hiss and a screech of sound, it died where it struggled.

Leon whistled and she rolled. Just like that. She rolled. Claws sliced over her head and Leon shot it with another blast from the shotgun.

Jill felt it leap on her back anyway. She shouted and kicked madly with her face on the ground. It reared back and opened its mouth, she screamed, and Leon hit it again. It was thrown sideways off her. The spit from its mouth struck the ground beside her face…and burned. It sizzled. And it melted the stone into a crater.

Acid.

ACID.

Jill rolled to her feet and ran toward him.

It wasn't even a thought for him. He grabbed her arm and slung her behind him. A little too male hero for her tastes…but he did have the shotgun.

There was a skittering sound along the ceiling and he dropped. Jill went belly down and Leon went to his back. The talons sliced for his face, the bug dropped toward him, and he blew it out of the air from a foot away.

It was thrown up and out. It hit the far wall and slid down, scrambling as it died.

Jill whispered, "What the fuck?"

"Yeah. That about covers it. We need to drain this water to get down there. The only way out is through the sewage pipe in the water."

Jill glanced at him. "You sure?"

"It makes sense. This was used to hold prisoners. The drainage system would have been the first thing to go under the assault of the water. My guess is that the guards used to use the sewer system to get around unnoticed."

Jill nodded and rose. "The drainage system to reroute the water should be close by, right?"

"Logically. If you can use logic in a rotting castle filled with killer bugs."

And now she laughed a little. They veered carefully down the narrow hallway to their left. It was falling half collapsed to one side. They had to ease through a cell to emerge out the other side. She stayed close to him.

He shifted to listen and realized she actually had one hand on her pistol and the other wrapped around his belt.

He rolled his head to look at her.

She glanced down, blushed, and let go of him. "Sorry. SORRY. Shit."

"S'ok. You scared?"

And now she laughed a little, breathlessly. "You aren't?"

"Nope. Not at all." He winked at her as they eased into an open room. It over looked the water-filled pit they'd left behind. They could see the water through the bars.

Jill gripped the red valve on the wall and started turning it. The drainage system roared to life with a gurgle and a pop like a bathtub draining. They watched the water drain out and leave the pit empty.

Guns at the ready, they emerged from the room to back track.

He'd been right, of course, the pit had a large opening for them to ease through and come out the other side. They moved carefully, listening to the plop and drip of water around them. The tunnel smelled like moldy old ass.

On the other side, a ladder climbed up to a ledge with a door. They started across the opening and Leon heard the splashing first. Jill spun back and fired.

She fired blind but it caused the bug rushing them to shimmer enough and give them an idea of where it was. It kicked up water now as it raced toward them. Leon fired and it leaped to the side. The shot went wild and tossed water in a plume where it had been.

It hit the wall and raced with a skittering of its exoskeleton on stone. Jill fired at the shimmer of it. It screeched and bounced off the wall. She saw it shift the air and tackled Leon so hard it sent him onto his ass in the water.

But it saved him from losing his head.

The claws bisected the air and the acid spewed a foot from them.

Jill spun back and kicked it. She kicked it in midair.

It was a solid kick.

The thing was tossed into the far wall and Leon shot it from his ass on the ground.

Another one dropped straight down atop him. He lost the shotgun trying to keep it from eating his face. It screeched, Jill screamed, and it drew his arms out to the side almost obscenely. It was spreading him open to what? To eviscerate him most likely.

He rolled his hips, humped up, and scissors kicked it in the back of the head. Screeching, it went to the side and Jill spun a roundhouse at it to get it to release him. She grabbed the shotgun from the water and blasted it from point-blank range.

It was thrown off into the water to create a wave that washed around Leon's back as it died.

Her hand came down to jerk him to his feet. "Are you alright?!"

His face was bleeding. One of the claws had caught him above the eyebrow. She used her jacket to sweep the blood away. Shallow but too close. It tried to bisect his eyebrow in half. An inch lower and he'd have lost the eye.

She offered him the shotgun.

He took it, eyeing her. "I'm good. Thank you."

"Yep. Yep yep. Partners right?"

"That's what they say."

Jill nodded and hurried passed him to climb the ladder. He watched her ass as she climbed. Partners. Sure. Right. That's what they were. Partners.

Mmhmm.

Sure.

Shaking his head, he followed her up the ladder. She cleared into the next room and gestured him through.

Nothing trying to spit acid on them here. Nope.

Just four enormous pendulums swinging back and forth from the ceiling waiting to cleave them in half.

Leon blinked.

"Shades of Edgar Allen Poe up in this bitch."

Jill snorted. And laughed. She just laughed. She mused, "I think the story was The Pit and the Pendulum, handsome. Not the Spit and Pendulum."

He winced a little. "Bad, Valentine. Bad."

"Sorry. My puns suffer when giant bugs spit acid at me."

"Get it together." He smirked at her. Timing things, they leaped from one platform to the next to cross the pit before them. The pendulums swung, sharp and deadly. They made a SCHWINK and SCHWUNK sound as they went, trying to split skin and sky.

At the far side, Leon turned back to observe them. "Seriously…what the hell man?"

Jill shrugged, shaking her head. "You trying to make sense out of madness, Mr. Kennedy?"

"Apparently. I'm mostly a rational guy." Save for when he was chasing two pringles hugging in a pair of tight pants. Then, maybe not so rational.

The door opened to the hallway they'd left behind when Ashley was taken. They'd, literally, made a loop back on themselves. But apparently, they'd missed something important the first time.

A gated entry at the top of the far stairs was now open…because down in the middle of the grand hallway…some kind of ritual was in progress. One of the men in the red robes with the goat masks was leading a series of grey garbed monks in prayer. An altar sat in the middle of them draped in blood-red silk. The plagas symbol they worshiped was in a pewter statue on it. A human heart lay beside the statue, horrible, bloody, and somehow still beating.

They prayed. They chanted. The word _Muerte_ was in there. The word _plagas._ The word _dios._

Leon and Jill leaned against the wall, silent, listening. Objectively, the door they were trying to get through on the far side would be sealed when the ritual goers were done and had left the hallway. So, they needed to get to that door before that happened.

The chandelier in the center of the hallway beckoned. If they could leap to it and leap from it to the far side, they MIGHT be able to get through the door without alerting the fifteen men down below. Leon lifted a finger to his lips and gestured with his head.

Jill nodded and they shifted quietly. The men below were taking turns taking bites from the human heart that they passed around. She gave Leon a disgusted look and he pantomimed barfing.

Trying not to laugh, she watched him take two steps backward and make a running leap to the chandelier.

He was so damn quiet that it was insane. He landed on the heavy metal outside ring without a sound. There was merely a tiny tinkle of crystal nearly lost beneath the chanting below.

Jill backed up and jumped. She caught the edge and eased up on it beside him. Not nearly as silent, of course, but still quiet beneath the din of loud murmurs below them. They treated the chandelier like a see-saw. She swung it back, he swung it forward. When it had a good little swing on it, Leon leaped off and landed soundlessly on the adjacent balcony.

Jill mirrored him and sprung off. She landed on the far side and he caught her against him. Their eyes held for a long moment…and she pulled away like he was on fire. Leon sighed a little and they made their way quietly to the far door.

They emerged through the far door and found themselves in a gallery.

The décor was lovely here. It was antiques and hand polished wood. The beautiful carpet on the cold stone was well maintained and Berber in a deep wine red. Crown molding and hand sculpted columns lined the white washed stone, offering the viewer the chance to enjoy the semblance of paintings that invited one to discover the roots of the castellans that had served faithfully for generations.

Beautiful portraits lined the walls. They were painted with a practiced hand. They were lovely and expensive and haunting. Most of them anyway.

The wall before them was horrifying in comparison. It was four portraits depicting death. The first showed a man with his head in a guillotine ready to lose it. The second were two people hung by their necks in the gallows. The final two portraits were the same each contained a set of three crucified and pale. It was…eerie. It was uncomfortable. It was graced with a podium with a set of three buttons. And a small plaque that informed them: The Sacrifice of Six Shall Show the Way.

Leon glanced at Jill. She eyed him in return. With a shrug, he pressed the first button.

The portraits shimmered in the wall and shivered. And then they rotated. The first two rotated to reveal another set of two hanging and three more being crucified. Jill made a small sound. "It wants us to show only six."

"Yep. Usually, the puzzles are a wee bit more challenging."

Jill chuckled a little.

It was a matter of pushing the right combination of buttons. Each button turned a different set of portraits. The middle rotated the right three. The third button rotated the last two. After a few clicks and experimentation, the portraits finally revealed two sets of men hanging from the gallows and two men being forced into the guillotine. The wall shivered, it made a small click of release, and it slid away to reveal the door beyond.

They held gazes again.

Jill gripped the knob of the door and eased it open.

The room beyond was empty. It was a wide open area with a dais rising from the floor. On the dais, an ornate blue and gold chest beckoned. They locked eyes again. They held them. Finally, Leon remarked, "This is too easy."

"Yes. This is WAY too easy."

They eased across a small walkway to the dais. They were both ITCHY with waiting for the other shoe to drop. Leon eased open the hinged lid with a small metal release of latches. And a piece of the puzzle waited there for them on the plush red satin.

It was the goat portion of the chimera.

It was pewter and heavy. He picked it up and glanced at Jill again.

She shrugged one delicate shoulder.

They eased back across the walkway and moved to the far door. No one jumped out to kill them. No one leaped from the ceiling to eat them. Nothing triggered acid rain or fire or bursts of bugs to devour them. Too easy.

It was too easy.

It couldn't be this easy.

The door opened now into the cold night air. A breeze had kicked up in the absence of the storm. It chilled the skin as they moved. A fountain waited, tinkling pretty and musical. Ravens croaked and dipped their beaks into the pristine water. The moonlight cast shadows while inky clouds danced across its face.

They were, for all intents and purposes, alone.

Leon secured the goat ornament in his cargo pocket as they walked. Jill was desperately thirsty. She wanted to join the birds in drinking the water of the fountain. But she was pretty sure if she did, she'd swallow some kind of virus and burst apart to become an enormous killer bug.

The cold tickled her hair as it deftly lifted her ponytail in the breeze.

They moved in the cold air together in silence. The silence was nearly as loud as the fountain they left behind as they crossed the chilly stone toward the far side of the castle. You could hear the suggestion of another fountain somewhere in the distance. The breeze rustled, occasionally a crow cawed or a raven croaked.

He'd finally had enough of the silence and started to say something when his communicator signaled. He drew Jill to a halt with a hand on her arm and opened the video.

"Hunnigan? What do you have for me?"

Hunnigan's pretty face started to speak and the video feed shivered, cut out, and came back…to reveal the ugly midget that was fucking with them.

"AH! Mr. Kennedy!" The nasally little voice grated on the nerves, "I have hijacked your signal. You will no longer be getting ANY help from the others."

Leon cocked at brow at him. "Can't make friends any other way, huh pal? They have personal ad's to help with that kind of thing. I just bet there's an evil midget seeking midget section. Maybe you can meet an evil Oompa-Loompa and settle down."

Less than amused, Salazar rolled his eyes. "Keep joking, Mr. Kennedy. But we will see who has the last laugh. I see you have found my garden. Delightful. My pets have been looking for a new playmate. Perhaps you will offer them some exercise before they devour you."

"Awesome. I've been getting a little bored before now with the pathetic shit you keep throwing at me. Maybe your pets will keep me entertained."

"Such a jokester. So tough. You will not be so tough when you are screaming for mercy."

Leon chuckled a little. "You don't know me, Salazar, but let me offer you a word of advice: don't waste your time trying to scare me. I don't give two shits about anything you've got waiting in this castle of crappy horror movie clichés. I'm coming for Ashley. If she's so much as missing a hair on her head, I'm going to shove your head so far up your ass you'll have to wear yourself as a hat."

The giggle from their evil benefactor made both Leon and Jill wince. It was just that gross to hear it.

"Ahhhh so she fell into one of my traps after all. Wonderful. Worry not, Mr. Hero. I will take care of the girl while you ring the dinner bell for my pets. Enjoy your bravado while it lasts. I'm afraid I have to tie up a couple of …loose ends. Like chasing down another pair of RATS." Salazar clicked off the video feed.

Leon glanced at Jill with raised brows as he put the communicator back in his pocket. "A couple of rats….if one is Luis…"

Jill held his look, "Who's the other?"

The answer was waiting for them to find it. There was another intruder in the mess. In this case, Leon thought, the enemy of their enemy could be their friend. Someone had left him that note earlier. So he knew there were other players in the mix. Who?

Friend or foe?

There was no way to answer that without getting back inside the castle.

There was an enormous garden at the base of a long staircase. It showed prettily in the moonlight. It was well lit with torches and surrounded on all sides by enormous, perfectly groomed hedges. The door to their right was locked tight. And there was no using Jill to pick the lock. They needed two pieces of some kind of missing stone to get it to open.

Leon glanced down at the enormous garden. He could see two beautiful fountains, a bridge, and a cage on the far side from their perch atop the rise. He glanced at Jill in the moonlight. "What's the likelihood the pieces we need are down there in that maze?"

Because it was a maze. The hedges were laid out to invite you to wander amongst the paths they protected…and likely leave you lost in the mess of it. It was stupid to go down there and start poking around. But what other choice was there?

Jill held his gaze for a moment and sighed. "So maybe we split up. We can cover ground easier that way. I can go left, you can go right. If needs be…I think we can cut through the hedges to find our way back out."

Leon nodded and moved toward the stairs. "Be careful. Those bugs were dangerous as fuck. I don't like the idea of splitting up with invisible bugs running around."

Jill shrugged a little as they reached the base of the stairs. She gave him a mirthless smirk. "The key to survival is really rather simple."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. One word actually."

They paused at the first split in the path. The fork offered them left and right. She started left and Leon grabbed her arm to halt her. She glanced down at his hand. She wanted to slide her hand down and twine their fingers.

She wanted to hold hands and stroll around the gardens while "pets" tried to eat them. What was he doing to her? It was insane.

"What's the word?"

Her eyes moved from his hand and up to his curious expression. She said, softly, "Run."

His eyes volleyed over her face. She did the same. It was like they were trying to memorize the other. Finally, he let go of her arm and answered, quietly, "Be careful."

"You too."

Jill turned to move down her path.

Leon rubbed the tips of his fingers together like he could still feel her arm there and turned down his with a long-suffering sigh.

He was a few steps down when she called out to him, "I used to have a pet leech."

He turned to look at her. She walked backward a few steps and finished her statement, "It was attached to me."

He stopped. She stopped. They both blinked. He shook his head and laughed a little. Jill chortled and shrugged and disappeared around the turn in the hedges.

Damn her.

He rubbed his fingers together again and kept the Magnum ready in his other hand.

The maze spilled him around a corner three times. He circled back on himself in the cold night air and found his way to another dead end. This one showed the cage he'd seen from the overpass. It was empty...which was probably a bad sign.

Sighing, he started to turn back when he heard the rustling of the hedges.

He tilted his head. He listened. He waited….and the hedges split when one of Salazar's "pets" exploded from the green leaves with a crack and rattle of breaking branches. It landed on the muddy ground in a splatter of rain water and growling.

The wolves they'd found outside the church apparently waited amongst the maze for their dinner. It padded, pacing him. It eyed him with angry, intelligent, hungry eyes. It slobbered from its razor-sharp muzzle.

Leon tilted his head, "Hey Fido. Want a treat?"

With a rumbling growl, it leaped at him.

On the other side of the maze, Jill extracted the small disk from the water of the fountain she'd found. The headless goddess that poured water into the fountain at her feet should have been creepy. But she was somehow ethereal.

Jill lifted the disk, eyeing the half of a moon that graced the cold stone. She poked the disk into her pocket and turned to head back when she heard the gun go off. It was loud in the quiet night.

She froze, listening.

She heard him fire once, twice, and a third time.

Silence followed. She called out, in the quiet night, "Leon!?"

And his voice came back to her on the wind, "I'm fine! It's those damn wolves, Jill. He's got them in the maze with us."

No sooner had he spoken, then the hedges rustled and spilled two of them to the muddy ground to pace her. One had the whipping tentacles that had spilled from its ruined back. The other opened up like a flower in the sun and showed rows and rows of rotting, razor-sharp teeth. It's whole head and muzzle split in half like a zipper had pulled across its flesh to open it and eat her.

Jill blasted the first one to rush her and threw herself to her back as it soared over her head. She rolled, drove her boots up into its belly, and tossed it into the fountain with a crash and splash of water. The tentacle one whipped her so hard she was sent rolling around the ground from the impact.

It hurt. It slapped her face and arms as she hit the side of the fountain and scrambled away. The water from the fountain splattered her face as she moved.

She spun back and ducked, feeling the tentacle slap into her shoulders as she used the fountain to offer a shield against it. It raced around behind her and she was forced to follow her rule: she ran. She ran like she was trying to win the race. Maybe she was in a way.

She burst through the maze at a manic pace. She heard the pound and press of paws behind her. Not alone now, it had gathered friends. She could hear countless numbers giving chase to her.

She ducked between two hedges and missed losing her head to one that leaped where she'd been. The fear beat in her chest like drums. She was surrounded. She was going to die screaming and ripped to pieces by wolves. A bad way to go.

Afraid, she raced up a set of stairs to the top of a bridge and barreled across it.

They chased her across the bridge growling and snarling. They were fast and deadly. They were howling.

At the end, a fountain waited and offered nothing but a view of the rest of the maze. She caught sight of a gate at the bottom of the drop and vaulted over to the ground below. A tentacle whipped her back as she went, splitting her jacket and drawing blood.

She landed, rolled, and kept on running.

The rusty gate gave with a squeal of metal as she hit it and burst through, slamming it shut behind her.

The path went right and Jill raced up the stairs that waited. She heard the snarling and snapping behind her as she ran. She scrambled on the stairs and heard the gate give with a rusty peal of release behind her. The pound of paws chased her toward the locked door at the top.

Terrified, Jill slapped the piece in her hand in the slot and realized the other piece was already there. Leon had clearly located the other piece while she'd been running for her life. The door clicked to signal it was open and she tumbled through, kicking it shut in her wake.

She scrambled and fell to her knees and the door opened behind her.

She rolled onto her back and sighted down her arm at Leon's face as he burst through. He ignored her and kicked the door shut, throwing the lock on it. The wolves were pacing on the balcony they'd left behind.

They were in a pretty bedroom. The four-poster pediment bed in the corner of the room was mahogany and finely carved. It was canopied and draped in red silk. An armoire that was likely hundreds of years old set to one side, inviting the viewer to hang their petticoats before they napped.

There was a series of old antique hutches and dressers. There were two small lanterns that flickered and cast dull light on the floor around them. The old red and blue carpet beneath their feet was faded but finely woven. The candelabras on the wall beside the bed cast shadows in the ornate darkness.

A small antechamber was easily cleared beside the bedroom. It was little more than a vanity and a wardrobe with a set of curious cases that offered fine china and beautiful art to the curious eye. The paintings on the walls were framed in gold and offered beautiful women in repose and gathered in lush gardens. It was impossible to guess the age of the paintings. Like most things in the castle, it was impossible to tell what was old and what was simply made to look old. What was real and what was surreal? A question without an answer in a castle of lies.

A door waited to one side, offering them another trip into an unknown area.

He cleared the room easily enough. It was quiet here and the sounds from the balcony faded as the wolves gave up their pursuit to return to the maze and await the return of their promised dinner. There was no going back that way. It was through the far door or death now.

Leon reached down to help her up.

Jill winced as he eased her to her feet.

"Christ, are you ok?" His hands tilted her face into the muted light, studying the bleeding cheekbone and eyebrow. The tentacles had smacked the shit out of her, clearly.

She shrugged, breathing fast and loud. She lifted a hand and pressed it to her chest. Her heart was racing with fear. "Give me a minute here. Just a second."

He nodded and shifted his hands to her upper arms. The back of her jacket was ripped. Concerned, he turned her a little to see the damage. It was pretty bad. She was bleeding all over the place.

Leon shifted away toward the bed. "Take off the jacket. Let me see how bad it is."

Jill unzipped the jacket without arguing and hissed as she slid it off.

He gestured her over toward him as he readied some antiseptic from the first aid kit. Jill moved forward and limped a little. She'd twisted her ankle in the run and it was throbbing.

She sat gingerly on the mattress with another wince of pain.

Leon knelt and eased off her boot. Jill made a small sound of pain and grabbed his shoulder with one hand. He glanced up at her face as he took her foot and turned it, testing the flex and checking the swelling on it.

Jill made another small sound and went pale.

He removed her sock to check her toes and ankle. There was minimal swelling and no bruising which was good. Objectively, she had a pretty foot. The toes were painted a jaunty silvery blue. She'd had a little flower painted on the tip of the big toe nail.

Amused, he lifted a brow at it.

Jill pursed her lips and waited for the judgment. He said nothing and simply shifted to wrap the ankle tightly with an ace bandage before helping her back on with the boot. She happily took the little bottle of water and pain reliever he offered her as he rose.

He said, "Let's see the back."

Jill swallowed the pain relief powder and shook her head at him. "I'm fine. It's fine. Let's get moving here."

"You're bleeding pretty badly. We have to check the damage."

"I'm fine. Honestly."

Leon shook his head and grasped the hem of her tank top. His fingers brushed her belly beneath it and brought a flush to her face.

Jill grabbed his hands to stop him and he lifted his brows at her. "Take it off Jill. Let me help you."

She was being stupid. She didn't want to take her shirt off for him. Well, she did. She wanted to take off all her clothes around him. She wanted to lie back on this damn bed and do more than take her clothes off.

She was being stupid. Annoyed at herself, Jill lifted her arms.

He tugged the tank top off her and laid it on the bed. It was torn in the back and red with blood. He climbed onto the silk comforter behind her on his knees.

It annoyed her even more that the flush in her face was making her light headed. She actually started to tremble there on the bed which pissed her off. How old was she? What was it about him that made her feel about fifteen? She'd once stood in a cave buck naked while Chris treated eleven slashes from head to toe on her without breaking a sweat.

What was it about Leon Kennedy touching her that made her pant like a bitch in heat?

Christ, it was ridiculous.

Jill waited while he treated her back. She breathed slowly. She could feel his fingers on her skin. The first part burned, the second was soothing. He didn't even try to grope her. He didn't joke. He didn't do anything but quietly tend to her.

Jill glanced over her shoulder. "You ok?"

The bra she was wearing wasn't sexy. It was serviceable. It wasn't meant to inflame or excite or arouse. She was sore and bleeding. They were both dirty and tired and scared. There was nothing sexy happening here.

Nothing.

The sports bra she wore was meant to hold those brilliant breasts of hers in place so she could run and jump and fight. That was it. There was nothing here that should make him hard.

But he was hard. He was hard while he treated her back. It was shallow but painful, clearly. He tended it with a sigh of frustration. He was shallow and painful too. He was thinking of tonguing her tits when he should be thinking of saving his own stupid life. Ridiculous. The stupidity of it wasn't lost on him.

Jill tried again, "Leon?"

He shook his head.

Jill glanced at his face in the soft lantern light, "Don't clam up on me here, Kennedy. What's wrong?"

Her belly was smooth and taut and muscled. Her arms were finely capped with it. That little white sports bra she wore kept her breasts bond tightly to her narrow frame. Nothing sexy here. Nothing.

He taped the gauze to her wounded skin.

Jill tried once more, "What is it? Leon, what?"

His need for her fairly consumed him. It was STUPID. He was stupid. His IQ be damned. He knew it wasn't smart. It was stupid. But it didn't matter anymore. He had to touch her. It was that simple. Just a little. Just a little.

His hand brushed over the bound wound, securing it. And it kept on going. It slid up her back and eased the tail of her hair away from the back of her neck. Jill went very, very still. He heard her breath catch. He thought, wildly, "Don't do it." But he did it.

He pressed his lips to the back of her neck. Her skin pebbled with goosebumps. He shifted his forehead to her shoulder. He kissed the curve of her neck where it met her jaw.

She shifted on the bed and gripped his wrist.

He didn't even stop her. He just let her do it. She slid his hand up her chest and splayed it open against her bosom. He could feel the thunder of her heart that beneath that stupid, not sexy bra. His forehead shifted into the curve of her neck and shoulder. She turned her face and laid her cheek against his head.

It wasn't sexy. Shouldn't have been sexy. They were tired and scared and bleeding. They were cold and starving and ass deep in enemies. They were lost and dirty and desperately out numbered. There was no time for any of this. For any of that. Or to sit here in the danger zone and just…cling.

Her free hand shifted anyway. It slid against the side of his face. She turned him up to her. She shifted. He shifted. They brushed mouths together.

Jill made some kind of sound of need.

Jill? Not entirely. Him. He did it. He made some kind of sound of need for her. She echoed it.

Bad timing, he thought, so bad. Bad timing. Bad.

He shifted his hand to her chest. She guided it down and settled it over one excited nipple. There was NO TIME for groping in an infested castle. Nope.

His fingers dipped under the edge of the stupid sports bra and skimmed her cleavage. She gasped softly against him. She licked his mouth. He was pretty sure he was going to die on the spot.

He shifted his face and she rolled her shoulders back against him. Yeah, he thought, enough was enough here. Bad timing or not, he wanted to touch her and kiss her and they could be dead in an hour. So why not? Why? What the fuck man? Why not? Enough was enough here.

And he thought, fuck it, and used his whole hand to cup her. He slid his hand down into that bra and just...he touched her. His palm closed around one perfect breast and her mouth opened against his on a needy moan. She whispered, "Oh god."

And that sounded about right. He shaped her in his palm, feeling the answer of his thundering heart to the one that beat behind his rolling palm. Jesus. He didn't care if they both died right in that moment. He didn't care about the mission or Ashley Graham or saving the world. He just wanted to keep on touching her.

He nuzzled her face up with his and licked the seam of her lips again. Now, he thought, now was the worst time to kiss her. And he was going to do it. He was going to taste the wet cavern of her mouth. He didn't care. He was tired of caring about anything but her. He just wanted to know her flavor.

His voice was gruff and so low it dragged out of his chest like a curse, "Stop me, Jill."

And her breathy answer damned them both, "Not yet. Not yet."

He ground his forehead against her neck and cursed, "Fuck."

She couldn't think of anything else she'd rather do in that moment than fuck. Denying it was killing them both. Being mature, being professional, it was killing them both. Maybe they needed to just..let it out. Just a little. Just once. Purge the urge? Something.

She whispered, "Please."

Bad timing. And he just didn't care anymore.

He jerked her around toward him. She went easily, shifting onto the bed to join him. She walked on her knees until they were chest to chest. The mattress was soft and giving. She jerked his shirt from his pants and pulled, pushing her hands under it to paint his belly with her hands.

He tried again, low and desperate, "Stop me, Jill."

And she whispered, "Not yet. Please."

Yeah, he thought madly, not yet, please.

He grabbed her ponytail to tilt her face back to him and her hands grabbed his in response. She was dizzy with it. She pressed her mouth to his and rubbed, like a cat. Kiss me, she thought desperately, now. Kiss me now. His free hand slid down and jerked her hips toward him until they were smashed torso to torso.

Someone was panting. It was both of them. Naturally, it was both of them.

Jill speared her hands into his hair and twisted, drawing a small sound of need from him that inflamed her. Jesus, she thought, this is how she died – craving Leon Kennedy in a dirty castle while the bad guys waited to kill them. This is how the world ended – in need and blood and death and want.

She ground her mouth against his and made them both nuts with it. He grunted and whispered, "Open your mouth for me, Jill."

Jesus. She opened her mouth and waited for his tongue.

The door they'd come through rattled.

They froze, panting. They froze, flushed and lost in each other.

The door rattled again.

They both let go. Jill grabbed her top and jerked it on. Leon kept his gun on the door as she whipped on the jacket.

Jesus, she thought madly, this was what happened when you let emotion into a mission. You ended up groping Leon Kennedy on a bed in the middle of a castle filled with hostile infected. You ended up waiting for him to kiss you for the first time surrounded by the enemy. You let him play with your tits and lick your mouth and leave you breathless and wet while the bad guys beat at your door.

He was infected. Ashley was infected. And they were wasting time rubbing on each other like horny teenagers. God! She was so stupid. She was nuts for him. It was fucking her up in ways she couldn't even believe.

Jesus Christ in a miniskirt. They had to stop this shit.

The door opened and they were no longer alone.

A woman moved through the door and Leon grabbed her wrist, tugged, and threw her into the room with them. He jerked the pistol from her hands as she went. She rolled, reversed, and came up to find him at her throat with his knife.

They stared at each other from inches away.

Leon hit the release for her magazine and threw the pistol away while the clip bounced on the rug.

She was beautiful. She was tall, slender, Asian and wearing a dress that was red and elegant. Her ten feet of legs were happily paired with skinny ice-pick heels. She smiled sweetly from inches away.

He said, "A word of advice, princess, try using knives next time. Works better for close encounters."

She tugged off the little glasses she wore perched on her perfect nose and said, "Leon…long time no see."

Leon released her and stepped back, blinking in the semi-darkness. The surprise in his voice had Jill tilting her head to study them. "Ada?"

And the siren in red winked at him as she waited, patiently loving his shock. "So it would seem. You look good, Leon. Although I kinda miss the uniform."

Jill glanced at them and finally lowered her gun. Whatever else was true, this woman wasn't a threat to them. The woman in red looked over at her and lifted both brows.

And the look on that beautiful face wasn't entirely friendly.

Well, Jill amended silently, this woman wasn't a threat to HIM. She may still be one to her though. The look on that haughty face said she didn't like Jill being there. Maybe she would have liked even less the groping she'd interrupted. Most likely.

Oy.

Leon looked like someone had farted on his puppy or something. He kept shaking his head. "So the rumors are true?"

Ada tilted her head at him now, smirking. "Which ones?"

"You – workin with Wesker."

The name was enough to have Jill changing her mind about the gun. It came up again and the beautiful woman in red turned that gaze back to her. They eyed each other – two women: both beautiful, both deadly, and both having served at the hand of the corrupt former Captain of the S.T.A.R.S.

Ada shifted her eyes a little. She shrugged one perfect shoulder. "Rumors are often constructed by those who would see fit to tear another down, Leon. Never believe what you hear. Not entirely."

Leon shook his head at her again. "Damnit, Ada. Stop playing games. What are you doing here?"

Ada hadn't yet taken her eyes off Jill. Leon followed the line of her gaze and froze.

Jill had that gun trained on the other woman with a look on her face that scared him a little. It wasn't dispassionate. Ada looked bored by the whole exchange. But Jill?

She looked enraged.

Why?

Leon urged softly, "Jill, put it down. She's not going to hurt anyone here."

Jill actually laughed, mirthlessly, "Yeah she is. You workin with Wesker, Ada? I heard that about you. That you sold yourself to the highest bidder."

Ada tilted her head again, "I'm a mercenary. I go where the money is. We all do what suits us, Ms. Valentine. Let's not pretend we don't."

Jill arched one dark brow at her.

"Oh yes," Ada laughed a little now, "I know who you are. There is little I don't know. For instance, I'm aware of your history with Wesker. Let me caution you to be wise about how you pursue him. He is not…entirely what he once was. And he's determined to see the end of you."

Jill shrugged one gallant shoulder now. "He's tried before. He'll try again. I encourage it. Let him know I can hardly wait, won't you?"

Ada laughed a little again, eyes twinkling. She was, it seemed, impressed at the very least. She did have a weakness for a powerful woman and Jill Valentine had a reputation amongst those who served the good. She was a crusader for her cause, that much was true. But she had no idea whom she was seeking to end there. Wesker would not bow down to anyone, least of all a former protégé from Raccoon City. And revenge against him would have to wait for Jill Valentine because Ada still needed him. For now, her end game required his assistance.

Ada shifted her gaze back to Leon. "You're up against things you can't begin to understand here, Leon. And you're on borrowed time. Stop playing footsie and run. If you don't? You'll end up playing a game you'll lose. Forget the girl and get out of here."

Leon narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you doing here, Ada? What do you know?"

"Please," She laughed a little, "I'm not going to sigh and simper and show my secrets, Leon. You know me better then that. You think you can flash a sexy little smile at me and make me swoon? I'm doing you a favor here. I'm doing what I can to keep you alive while you play grab ass with the BSAA. But you're making my job harder by being stupid. You think you've seen the worst of it? You have no idea what Saddler can do. Go back to your puppet master and forget Ashley Graham. She's done. She's lost. She'll turn soon enough and you behind her if you don't."

"Damnit, Ada. Answer the question. What are you doing here?" He took a step toward her.

Ada glanced at Jill who echoed the move. Would they grab her and interrogate her? The idea was amusing.

And her little glasses beeped to let her know their time here was up.

Sighing, she said, "Don't be stupid here, Leon. See you around."

The world flashed white and bright and had them stumbling.

Ada took the initiative as the glasses erupted in a flash of light and rolled to her gun. She grasped it and ran for the door. Jill made a grab for her and Ada spun a low kick at her.

It spilled the other woman to her back on the bed. Ada laughed a little at her and taunted, "Stop trying to grab his ass and save his life…you stupid girl."

Leon cursed as Ada escaped out the window and was gone.

Jill rolled to her feet, breathing fast and low.

She couldn't even LOOK at him now. She'd been shamed by a spy. This is what her life looked like with Leon Kennedy in it. It was fighting and fleeing and trying to fuck him surrounded by death. Jesus Christ. It was being SHAMED BY ADA WONG. There was no greater defeat than that.

This is what it meant to let things get personal.

This is why she didn't. It's why she avoided it at all costs. She KNEW better.

He shifted and she stepped back from him.

Quietly, he cautioned her, "Don't, Jill. Don't."

Don't what? Don't what!? She shook her head. "She's right. She's RIGHT. What are we doing here, Leon!? What are we doing?"

And now they locked eyes in the quiet room.

He looked as lost as she did. He looked as confused and afraid and lost. It wasn't a good sign for them. It was a bad sign. Neither had answers.

He finally answered her, "I don't know. I don't know what's happening here. Maybe it's adrenaline. Maybe it's insanity."

"Maybe it's the damn parasite inside you."

He studied her face. That's what scared her the most here. It was all over her. She was afraid he wasn't himself. She was afraid he was turning into something else. He answered that fear, emphatically, "What's in me for you, Jill? That was there before this. That's all me."

Jill shook her head at him. She covered her face and breathed for a minute. "Ashley is out there waiting and we're here playing around like teenagers. Christ. We need to stop this. We're going to be grabbing each other's asses when you turn into one of those fucking things. I'm so busy trying to fuck you that it's going to get you killed. What is happening here!?"

She felt the air shift and knew he was right there. She whispered, "Don't." And it didn't matter anymore.

He peeled her hands away from her face and wrapped them around his neck. She didn't just spill against him, she made a sound of regret and clung. His arms wound around her waist and lifted her against his front until her feet dangled.

She buried her face against his neck and hung on.

He echoed it, breathing her in.

The hugging was worse somehow than the groping. It was so much worse. It wasn't just sex. It wasn't just attraction. It was something else and something so much harder to resist.

She was afraid she was in love with him. She was afraid of him. Because she'd never, ever, loved someone like that. She'd never let anyone, ever, get close enough to make her toss her carefully won professionalism and control into the fire and watch it burn. He was in there. He was in her. And she couldn't get him out anymore.

Infected? Yeah. She was infected. He was her fucking parasite. And it was going to kill them both.

Jill made a small sound and pushed away from him. "Stop. Stop. Please. I can't watch you die. I can't do that. We keep fighting this thing with us. We keep fighting it. But it's killing us like quicksand. We joke and we flirt, we run. We fight and cling and kill ourselves with the want of it. I keep on craving you like some kind of drug. Maybe...we just need to get away from each other…for a little while here."

"Don't, Jill. Don't." He tried to touch her again and she moved away from him.

"Leon…she's right. We're so stupid. We're so wrapped up in each other we're blind to what is happening here. You have to rescue that girl. You have to do your job. I have to do mine. I can't do that with you coiled in my guts like snakes. I keep trying to keep my hands off you and I can't." She shook her head, "I can't."

She sounded so desperate it scared him. He understood it. He felt the same. He couldn't do anything but think of her and want her and it was killing him. He didn't know what the right answer was here.

"Jill…just…you can't go off alone. I can't protect you if you go off alone."

She lifted her eyes to his face now. "Are you kidding here, Kennedy? How many times have I saved your ass tonight?"

He blinked now, watching her face in the shifting light. "I think it cuts both ways, kid."

Jill laughed a little, lost. "Yeah. Yeah, it does. It does. Jesus Christ. Ok. OK. Enough of this shit. Enough. We get Ashley. We get her back…and then I'll go. I'll go and find the cure. I'll do that. You get her out and I'll find the cure. That's how we do this."

Leon answered, gently, "The timing is bad here, Jill. It's bad. But look at me."

She shook her head, staring out into the dark beyond the window.

He grabbed her chin in his hand and surprised her. He jerked her face up to him. There was no humor on him now. There was no joking. There was an intensity that caught her breath. She liked it on him.

He intoned, low and commanding, "The timing is bad. But this? You and me? This isn't wrong. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm getting something right. I've spent a long time chasing bad guys and even longer fighting for the cause. You're the first god damn thing I've wanted for myself since it all started. The timing sucks here. It couldn't be worse. But I'm not sorry for it. Because I wouldn't trade what I feel about you for anything in the world."

Jill held his eyes with hers. Her tummy rolled. Her face flushed with it. She whispered, "How can I work with you when you say stuff like that to me?"

"I don't know. I don't have answers to any of it. But don't do that. Don't shut it down and pretend it's wrong. The timing is wrong. Yeah, it is. But not this. This is right." He dropped his forehead to hers and held. Eyes closed, they held…for just a moment. "Don't give up on me here. Ok?"

She made a small sound again. "Ok. Ok. Stop trying to make me want you."

And now he did laugh, just a little. "Ditto."

She whispered, softly, "Let's get Ashley and get the hell out of here."

"Sounds like the best plan I've heard in awhile."

Jill lifted her eyes to his face. They held there for just another moment and she murmured, "When this is done?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm probably going to rape you. I just thought you should be aware of that."

The need for her rolled and bled with the humor. His eyes twinkled from inches away. His thumb skimmed her mouth and stole her breath. "Fair enough. Just be gentle ok? I'm delicate."

She couldn't help the laugh that spilled desperately from her mouth. "Damnit, Leon Kennedy. Stop making me insane for you."

"Cuts both ways, Valentine. Cuts both ways." He brushed their mouths together and stepped back. She lifted a hand to press it where his lips had been and shivered.

She had to figure somewhere, Ashley was silently judging her.

And as she watched him move to the far door and ease it open, Jill knew she had to say it now before they moved on. She had to say it to make Ashley proud. It was time for that.

"I don't think I can put you down if you turn."

He froze and turned back to her. "What?"

"I can't do it. I can't. I'm sorry. I can't. I just wanted you to know that."

They held eyes. She shook her head a little. "Say something, Leon. Anything."

He stood silently, watching her and finally answered, "What can I say to that? I need you to get Ashley out of here. If I turn. If I go down, I need to be able to trust you do that Jill. You saying you can't?"

Yeah, she thought, make Ashley proud. "I'm saying I can't kill you. For anything."

And now he looked worried. "Why, Jill? Why? You know if I turn there'll be nothing left of me, right? It's mercy to end it. You can't give me mercy?"

The idea of it made her chest tight. He watched her eyes pearl with tears and it scared him. This kind of emotion scared him. The want of her, the need, it was there. It was heady. It wasn't this. Her face didn't say anything about raping him. Her face said something worse than that.

But her mouth said, quietly, "I can't. I can't give you mercy if you turn. I'm so so sorry. I can't."

Horrified by the idea of turning and existing, he breathed, "For god's sake…why!?"

And two fat tears spilled onto her cheeks, scaring him. He took a step toward her and she lifted a hand, shaking her head at him. He halted, undone.

She whispered now…and damned them both with it. "Haven't you figured that part out, Leon? Aren't you supposed to be a genius? I don't know if that's true. You have to know why. You have to know it. I'm in love with you."

And somewhere beyond the window, a rumble of thunder punctuated the perilous sky while the truth of her confession lay between them…and left nothing but silence behind.


	11. Chapter 11

**X: HAUNTING**

* * *

 ** _"To be haunted is to glimpse a truth that might best be hidden."_**

 ** _― James Herbert, Haunted_**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain – 2004**

They didn't speak again.

They didn't say a word.

She followed him out of that bedroom in silence. It was louder than the thunder that rumbled and threatened more rain outside the castle walls. It was leaden and pregnant and painful. It, physically, hurt her feel it.

I love you, she'd said, I'm in love with you. And nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

This was why she didn't touch men. This was why she didn't bother. The occasional roll in the sheets was one thing. It was harmless. It was fun. This was not fun. It was painful. Literally, figuratively, fundamentally painful.

And she was the only thing funny here. She was the butt of the joke. She was in love with Leon Kennedy. The Nemesis. The fucking killer. The man who went in and took down anyone in his way. She was in love with him. Him and his stupid puns and his stupid hair and his stupid smile.

She watched him cross the long dining room before them. He didn't glance back at her. He didn't do anything. He'd stood in that room and looked at her and said…nothing. Silence. He was so stupid.

Ashely was stupid too. J _ust grab that ass, Jill, and go for it. Kiss him, Jill. Love him, Jill._ Idiot girl. Dumb, romantic, stupid girl. Jill paused and sighed. She was angry at everything it seemed. Really? She was angry at herself. She loved him.

It was done.

That's just how it was.

He didn't love her back. Indubitably, he wanted her. That was…evident. It was discussed and agreed upon. He wanted her. But that was…it was physical. It was sated with a roll in the sack and a sweaty fuck in a dark room. It was, ordinarily, more her speed.

But it wasn't what was happening here. It wasn't. She was in love with him.

That was it.

That simple. That messy. That ill-timed.

He studied plaques along the pretty walls of the oblong room where they walked. He stopped, he read, he moved. He stepped up to a narrow alcove and hit a small bell there on the counter before him. The pale wall turned and showed a feast to the viewer. A pretty painting of wine and fruit and fowl. He tilted his head, he considered it, and then he lifted his gun and shot the glass of wine that waited amongst the pretty oil canvas.

The room beside them opened. The gate that blocked them rose.

Yeah, she thought as the rusty peal of metal signaled the solving of another puzzle, he was smart. He was that. He was smart.

And STUPID.

He was so stupid.

He'd been chasing her around and flirting and breathing and grabbing at her. And what? He thought nothing would happen? Whose fault was this really? Hers? His? It started in Terragrigia. The flirting and the gasping and the groaning and the want. He'd started it!

How was she the only one paying the price here?

Bullshit.

The small room in front of them was nothing more than a little square with a door on the far side and a podium…with a treasure chest atop it.

He crossed it while she lingered in the dining room watching him.

Stupid man. Idiot. Why did she covet him?

Because he wasn't stupid. He was pretty close to perfect…the bastard.

There was a grumble of sound. The room he was in started to shake. Jill started running but she'd never get there in time.

The gate closed again, trapping her in the dining room

He turned back to her and stumbled as an enormous steel cage dropped with a roar of metal to trap him beside the podium. Horrified, she kicked the steel gate between them. "Leon!"

"I'm ok. I'm fine. I think…"

The far door opened and four of the cultist emerged, chanting.

Jill sighted down her arm and shot the first one through the door in the face. The second lost his eye to Leon's Magnum. Not too hard to pick them off when they fatal funneled themselves into that doorway. Not really.

And then it all went to hell.

There was a metallic whine that signaled horror.

And Jill watched one of those blind men with the horrible claws drop down into the tiny cage with Leon. She made a small sound of fear.

The man gave that cyborg noise and whipped his head, listening.

One of the cultists raised a bowgun to his shoulder and aimed the firey arrow in it at Leon within the cage. With no choice, Jill shot him in the face. The man collapsed against the bars in a burst of blood.

The noise brought the angry clawed man her direction but he struck the edge of the cage and whipped his claws uselessly. Of course, there was no reaching her when he was trapped in the cage with Leon.

Leon was looking desperately at the one door out of the cage. It was sealed with a heavy padlock. Jill shot the final cultist in the face when he raised his bowgun and the clawed man wailed that metallic battle cry as he slashed wildly for her.

Jill whistled and threw her lockpicks into the cage. She kept banging the bars to keep the clawed man focused on her while Leon knelt to pick the lock. She made a great show out of taunting the thing.

"Ugly son of a bitch! No wonder they blinded you. Who'd want to see your ugly face?"

She heard the sounds of rushing behind her and turned.

The world slowed down as she ducked and a fire arrow whooshed right over her head an inch from where she'd been. It landed on the chest of the raging claw man and had him roaring that warbling cry. The man with the bowgun went to reload and Jill rushed him.

He backed up and tried to run and she dropped low, spun, and threw her leg out to sweep his feet from him. He went to his back, she shot him in the face and jerked his bowgun from his hands. The lock dropped onto the floor with a clang of metal and the clawed man spun, throwing his arms down to track the noise.

Leon froze, waited for it, and watched him rush the small distance.

Jill shouted and shot the bowgun at the same time.

Leon threw himself down and rolled. The claws bisected the air above him as the clawed man lunged. He hit the steel door and knocked it clean off its hinges. It fell to the floor in a burst of sound and the clawed man waved his arms wildly as the flaming arrow in his back ignited the parasite on him.

Leon rolled up his back and blasted the damn thing at point-blank range with the shotgun.

It worked like a charm. The man threw one clawed arm out in defense and hit him full in the face for the effort of it. Leon went up, out, and hit the bars on the far side of the cage, sliding down to slump there. Jill shot the burning parasite once more and sent the man careening to the floor on his face, burning, stinking, and dead.

There was no time to check on Leon as she turned, missed losing her face to the swing of a scythe above her while she rolled, and she came up to smash the butt of the crossbow into the face of her attacker. It hit the metal mask on his face and managed to piss him off.

She dropped to one hand and buffalo kicked him clean in the chest. The impact sent up out and over the table. He hit the surface, slid across it, and spilled to the floor. Jill vaulted up onto the table and shot him from her stance atop it, twice in the chest.

There was a sound of gears turning and the gate slid up on the door between her and Leon.

She leaped down and ran into the room. He was on his feet and holding a cup in his hands; a chalice really with a crown upon it. Curious, she lifted a brow. He'd clearly retrieved it from the treasure chest atop the podium.

He shrugged a little and pocketed the tiny cup.

Jill waited for him to say…anything.

He said nothing.

But he offered back her lockpicks. She took them, annoyed. She held his gaze for a moment and scoffed before she turned and stalked to the other door.

The silence remained as they cleared through into the next room. The chanting was loud here. They were somewhere close to a worship area, obviously. Quietly, they moved across a narrow walkway that spanned the small room.

A cage separated them from the other room that was adjacent. Inside the other room, cultists were gathered and doing another ritual. They were sharing a heart amongst them and worshiping death with a perverse glee.

Disgusted, Jill eased open the door on the far end of the walkway and cleared low into the next room.

A balcony. A balcony that opened to two small hallways. Empty. Stone. Silent.

The silence between them was louder than shouting.

Jill eased onto the balcony and heard it first. Someone was struggling. Someone was grunting. She shifted to look over the edge of the railing and heard the shout.

"JILL!"

It was Ashley. Ashley was bound to the wall below them. She was trapped there and shaking. She shouted again, "Help! Jill, help me!"

Jill called down to her, "Hold on ok? Hold on."

There was no way down to her from here. The lower level was too far to jump. She'd break a leg to even attempt it. The far door to her right was locked. The left door was as well.

The room where Ashley was bound offered only a single door out of it. The options here were incredibly limited. They needed a plan.

Leon said nothing. He moved down the three steps in front of them to a small outcropping. It was some kind of observation deck, obviously, for whatever weird shit usually occurred in the small room below them where Ashley waited. A place for Saddler to watch their rituals? Probably.

He shifted and aimed down his arm at the girl bound to the wall.

Ashley made a sound. "Wait!"

Jill grabbed his wrist and shoved his arms up, stopping him. "What are you doing!?"

Annoyed, he lifted his brow at her until she released him. He shouldered her aside and took aim again. Jill felt her chest go tight with the fear of it as he breathed, adjusted minutely, and fired.

Ashley shouted with horror.

And the first of her bindings snapped free beneath the driving bullet.

It was a HELLUVA shot.

Most men couldn't have done it from that distance without hitting the girl bound there. He not only did it, he did it twice more and set her free. Jill stared at his face while he did it. The concentration on that countenance was impressive. The skill was incredible. She'd known, according to his bio, that he was a marksman. She'd seen it.

But this was…

This was Chris Redfield good.

And she'd NEVER seen a better shot than Chris.

Chris NEVER MISSED. Ever. She'd watched him take down a zombie on a windy day in the pouring rain with a pistol and put it right between the eyes. The distance here was a hundred yards, at least. And Leon had put three clean shots into the metal restraints without blinking.

Yep.

She loved him.

Part of it was bad jokes, part of it was wanting to fuck him stupid, and part of it was THAT. Who was this guy? James Bond with puns and perfect aim.

Ashley climbed to her feet where the restraints had dumped her. She put a hand on her hip and shouted, "What if you'd MISSED, hot stuff?!"

Leon chuckled now and winked at her. "I don't miss, darlin. Try that door over there. Hurry."

She hurried toward it and it opened easily. Giving them a thumbs up, she ducked inside.

Leon turned back to climb the stairs and Jill grabbed his vest to hold him still. "Hey!"

He glanced down at her.

"How long are you going to pretend I'm not here?"

He answered, quietly, "I know you're here."

"Yeah? Then what? You think giving me the cold shoulder will erase that icky love stuff? Doesn't work that way, hotshot. I said it. It's out there. Stop being a coward about it. I'm not some simpering little thing, Leon. I get it. You don't feel the same way. Don't worry. I'm a big girl. I can take the rejection." She shoved him a little, glaring, "Just stop being a fucking asshole about it."

He opened his mouth to answer and the door they'd come through popped open.

Luis Sera hurried through, dancing a little.

"Leon! _Amigo!_ I GOT it!"

He was holding a small vial of purple liquid in his hand. He did something…that looked vaguely like the two step mixed with the chicken dance. The door started to swing shut behind him…and was thrown wide again to smash into the opposite wall.

Sera tried to run. He gave it his best shot.

But you can't outrun death.

He gasped. He jerked.

Leon shifted in horror. Jill made a small sound.

There followed the distinct thunk and crunch of bone breaking. Sera jerked and spasmed. His mouth opened and spilled blood thick and red down his chin.

Leon started running toward him.

The tentacle erupted in a geyser of blood from his chest. It made a crunching burst as it opened his chest and shattered his ribcage. It was thicker than a parking cone and impaled him even as it lifted him into the air. He twitched, screaming, shaking as the blood spilled sticky and red to the pretty black and white checked stone floor beneath.

The tentacle whipped his body around and threw him out. He twisted in the air and hit on his back in a pool of his blood, gasping and bowing. Leon skidded to his knees in the blood and threw his hands over the gushing hole in his shattered chest.

Jill lifted her gun on the man who emerged behind the tentacle. Saddler.

Saddler in his purple cloak.

Saddler…holding the purple vial in his stupid hand.

The tentacle slid under the cloak he wore and was gone. He grinned, laughing. "Thank you, Luis. Your time in my employ has come to an end it seems. You are of no use to me now that I have this. So thank you for your service. And remember what becomes of those who betray me."

Jill didn't even wait for him to finish. She shot him. The sound of the shot was loud. It hit Saddler in the chest and thunked wetly. He stumbled. He glared as he staggered back through the door. "FOOLS! Salazar will see that you follow the same fate!"

He slammed the door and escaped even as Jill fired at him again. The bullet thunked uselessly into the door.

Leon was trying to stop the bleeding but there was no point. It was gushing all around them too fast, too much, too fatal. Sera slapped his hands away and shoved a bottle into them. "Take it. Take it now. It will suppress the parasite…for a little while. You need…you…" He hacked, gasping and choking on his own blood.

Leon tried to soothe him. "Easy. Easy. Just take it easy."

"I'm done, _amigo. Hijo de la chingada._ I'm done. Listen…damnit. Listen. I stole the sample from Saddler. I was…I was trying to set it right. You need to get the sample back that he took. Get it back, Leon. And get the parasite out of you. Hurry…. _dios mio…"_ Sera gasped and gurgled…and went still.

He let out one final drag of breath and slumped in his blood to stare sightlessly at the ceiling.

Leon shook him a little. "Luis? Luis…damnit."

He skimmed a hand over his sightless eyes, shutting them.

Jill covered him, watching his face while he knelt in the blood. Neither of them had been sure about Sera. Apparently, he'd been a good guy after all. A helluva way to have your swan song, Jill thought sadly, stabbed in the fucking heart by a monster.

Leon shifted his hands to his face and rubbed his tired eyes.

Was this how it ended for them? Would he turn into something like Saddler? What chance did they have against something like that?

He trembled a little and rose, breathing slow and deep.

Jill studied his face and saw the grief and the worry and the fear etched there on it. She put aside her anger at him and grabbed his vest, shaking him a little. He dropped his hands and held her gaze.

And the defeat on him scared her. She shook him again, giving him strength in her determined expression. "No." She said it quietly, "No. This is not where you fall apart. Not yet."

That seemed to be the mantra of their relationship. Not yet.

The timing was never right for any of it.

She continued, "We will get that thing out of you. Do you understand me? We will get back the sample. And we will get out of here. I will rip the fucking thing out of you myself if I have to. Do you hear me?"

So, the timing was always bad. But it didn't change anything. Nothing. It just made it that much easier to know the truth of it.

He said, quietly, "You should go. You should run. You were right, Jill. You need to go. Get the BSAA to extract you. Run for the hills."

"…you want me gone?"

He shrugged, laughing darkly. "Why not? I can't protect you. You saw that shit. That's where I'm headed. That's what happens to me if we don't stop the change. You said yourself, you can't end me if I turn. You think I want to end up like Saddler?"

They held eyes. The silence was loud again. She finally answered him, "Answer the question, do you want me gone?"

And he replied, "I want you safe. I can't protect you from something like that. I want you safe, Jill. Get out of here. Go. Maybe if you go…maybe then I can do this without worrying about you. Maybe then I can do this without losing my fucking mind. Maybe you were right all along. You should go."

She shook him again. "Shut up. Idiot. Just shut up. Just…shut the fuck up."

She dragged him down to her. He made some sound and clutched her into him. His hands curled around her biceps and squeezed. She pressed their foreheads together.

Eyes closed, holding on, she hissed at him, "Where would I go, you idiot? Where would I go? We're stuck together, Kennedy. Stuck. You can't send me away so you don't have to care about me. Stop being so stupid. I love you."

He made that sound again and opened his eyes. This close, she thought, she'd never seen anything more beautiful than those eyes. Haunting. Haunting his face smeared red with Luis Sera's blood.

She said it again, "Yeah. I love you. It's done. Stop running from it. Stop denying it. You don't have to give it back to me. But you can't push me away to avoid it. I love you. Stop being a coward about it. Brave, stupid, wonderful man. Shut the fuck up."

He laughed a little. "This is the worst confession of love…ever. Maybe ever. Awful. Stick to puns, kid. Your flowery love words could use some work."

Jill shook him again and laughed. "Shut up. Don't you ever shut up?"

"Apparently, not."

Jill smeared her hands over his face, wiping away the blood. Luis Sera's blood was on his hands, on his face, and now on hers. His blood was on their hands. Both of theirs. Sera was dead because he'd been trying to help them. He'd been trying to do the right thing. He was dead being a hero. It was wrong. It was awful. And it was what happened to heroes. They often ended up dead trying to do the right thing.

Would it end that way for them as well?

She turned her face up and brushed their noses together, just once, and then she shoved him away from her. Because she wanted to hold on. Because she wanted to spend hours standing there listening to his stupid humor and staring into his beautiful eyes and there was no time for it.

The door to their right jiggled. They were both aiming at it when it flew open…and Ashley came running through it.

She froze.

She blinked.

And then she lifted the little snake ornament in her hand. "What-what-what!? Look what this chic found!"

She grinned and did a little dance…and then she saw Sera's body.

The humor leeched out of her and left her pale. She swayed on her feet and Jill rushed toward her. She caught Ashley before she fainted and shook her.

"Whoa. Whoa whoa. Hang on, girl. Don't do that. Look here, Ash. Right here."

They held eyes.

Ashley made a small sound of horror.

"No. Don't. Look here. Don't look at him. Focus on me ok?"

Ashley nodded, pale and scared. "Jesus. Jesus. Jesus."

"Actually his name was Luis. Not Jesus."

Ashley blinked. The bad joke worked though. She started breathing again and slumped a little. Jill looped an arm over her shoulders and led her back to Leon. She handed her off and went to the far side of the balcony to pick the lock on the other door.

Leon and Ashley each took one of the little pills in the bottle that Sera had given him.

They held gazes for a long moment.

He said, quietly, "I will figure out a way out of this, Ashley. Understand me?"

She nodded, pale and tired. The hollows under her eyes were purple and deep. He looped his arm around her shoulders and led her toward Jill. He said, "You did good, kid. Real good."

Ashley said nothing.

They emerged through the door to a walkway that offered two choices. One was a gondola on a track that promised a trip to another part of a castle down a long, winding trail. The other was a platform on enormous wheels with a lever that invited the viewer to the other side of the sharp drop into nothing.

They were outside, somewhat, and the cold air was echoed in the burst of their breath in puffy white clouds. The view beyond the gondola was beautiful forest and pretty black sky. Stars were trying to wink amongst the dissipating storm clouds.

Jill stepped on the platform and pulled the lever. She didn't wait even as it chugged and took her to the other side. Leon called, angry now, "Hey!"

Jill shrugged and dismounted to move toward the door that waited. "Sorry. Guard your charge, Kennedy. I'll be back."

She did it with a Schwarzenegger accent. A bad one.

Leon shook his head, "Awful. Dreadful. Do it again."

Jill was laughing as she cleared into the next room.

Ashley sat down on a small bench and covered her face with her hands. Leon knelt in front of her and rubbed her knee. "Hey. It's ok. It's alright. I'm gonna figure this out, alright? I swear."

She shook her head and laughed a little. "We're screwed. You get that right? Screwed with a capital S. We have that shit inside of us. It's going to win. We're going to turn and die and become something gross and stinky and wrong. And then what? They'll send me back to my father to kill him too? No. Just…no."

Leon took her hands and rubbed them between his. They were cold. She was a little shocky. Seeing a dead body could do that to you the first time.

"Ashley, I won't let that happen. I'm here to protect you. I will do that. At all costs. Let me worry about the how and the why. Just stick close and stay safe and keep your head down. I'll handle the rest of it."

Ashley looked at their hands. She looked at his face. Testing, she leaned over toward him.

In hindsight, he might have been better prepared for it. As it was, the second her realized where she was going with it, it was already too late.

She kissed him with a small sound.

There wasn't much he could do to stop it. He let it happen. It was harmless enough. It was soft. She needed something, clearly, to distract her from the horror of what was happening. Idolizing her savior was innocuous enough. Harmless.

Right.

Right?

Ashley leaned back, sighing. "Tell me if I'm wasting my time here, Leon. I figure, Jill's too stupid to make it clear she wants you…so maybe…"

Boggy ground, he thought a little desperately, these women. Always fucking with his world. WOMEN. His curse. The story of his life.

What was the right answer here?

He kept on rubbing her hands and went with the truth. "Kid…you're scared. You're tired. You're looking for something to take your mind off what's happening here. Nothing wrong with that. But you're also my charge. It's my job to protect you. I'm good at my job, Ashley. And I don't want you to get confused about why I'm here."

Ashley held his gaze. "That's not an answer."

He shifted a little, "It's an answer."

"Not really. It's an avoidance. It's yes or no, Leon. You either want me or you don't."

He patted her hands and rose. She figured, well, that's an answer if anyone had ever given one. She eyed him from where she sat. "Is it me?"

Leon shook his head and smiled, laughing a little. "It's not you. I'm flattered. I am. But the timing is all kinds of wrong."

"Because of Jill?" She threw that at him like a grenade.

He shifted again, glancing across the empty pit where the door remained closed. What was she doing beyond that door? And he replied, "For a lot of reasons."

"Stop digressing, hero. Answer the question."

Leon laughed a little, eyeing her pretty face. She was something else, this girl he'd been sent to protect and retrieve. The President's foul-mouthed, hilarious, opinionated daughter. And he said, "Yes. Jill is one of those reasons."

There. He'd admitted it…finally. To Ashley. Not to Jill.

Jill, who said I love you and scared him to death. Jill, who still hadn't come back from beyond the door.

"Speaking of Jill…Ashley…I need you to hide and wait for me. Can you do that?"

She eyed him blandly. "You see a dumpster around for me to jump in, hot stuff?"

Amused, he quirked his mouth wryly. "Not exactly. Get in that gondola and wait. Please. I need to go check on Jill."

Ashley eyed him again, smirking a little. "She's pretty awesome, hero. Try not to screw it up."

Considering, Leon studied her face. "What makes you think I will?"

"Please," Ashley snorted and moved toward the gondola, "You're the type who runs away when girls start sniffing too close. I bet you like the flirting and the long looks and the secret little touches. But, god forbid, the woman go after what's beyond that perfect six-pack. God forbid they start looking under that pretty exterior. They might find out you have a heart. They might be able to hurt you. Gasp."

He studied her blandly. His look was dry and very deadpan.

Ashley shrugged a little. "Sorry. Just my twenty-five-second psychoanalysis. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Leon sighed a little. "Gondola. Hide. Please."

Amused, Ashley chuckled now. "One-word responses. Must have hit a nerve."

Sighing, Leon turned back and pulled the lever. The platform rolled back to him and he climbed on. With a jerk of the lever, he was zooming back to where Jill had disappeared.

Under his breath, he muttered, "Women! Sheesh."

They were the bane of his existence.

His brain said: Yeah dude? Really? How is she wrong? Are you NOT the type that avoids women like Jill Valentine like the plague?

He was, objectively. He usually ran away from any kind of deeper feeling. In their business, seriously? It was hard to find something real. But this girl…she'd broken into his hotel room and had been fucking with his world ever since.

She'd broken into his hotel room and he'd been…chasing her ever since. It was that simple. He'd been chasing her. He couldn't keep his damn hands off her. What did it mean? It meant lots of things. Did it mean maybe he loved her? That's what it meant…maybe. So, he tried the thought out loud: "It means maybe you love her."

He was relatively sure that's what it meant. Although, honestly, he'd never loved a single woman in his entire life. Not his mother. Not his girlfriend in high school. And certainly, no woman since.

What a sobering truth. He had no clue what I love you meant. What did it mean?

It meant he couldn't get her out of his head. It meant the idea of being without her scared him to death. It meant he couldn't think of a single girl on earth but her that he wanted to be inside of. It meant, for the life of him, he couldn't imagine a world where she didn't exist. Was that love?

It had to be. Otherwise, he had no idea what love was. And she was wasting her time trying to offer hers to him.

Why wasn't love more the type of thing that you could just…use a calculation to determine?

He paused, blinking to himself.

Ok. So…maybe that thought was a little nerdy. Maybe that was...stupid. A little stupid. Kinda a lot stupid. Maybe.

Chuckling a little, Leon eased open the door Jill had gone through and cleared into the chamber beyond.

The second he emerged, he was intensely aware that he might have opened the door to the seventh pit of hell. Potentially, he was going to run into Dante traversing the other rings soon enough. It was three hundred thousand fucking degrees in the chamber. The world was wavering with the humidity kicked up from the lava that boiled and popped and rolled along the walkway beneath him.

Leon started to lift a hand to wipe away the sweat from his brow and he heard the echo of gunfire.

He didn't even realize he was running until he was leaping over the divide to the next platform. The echo of her machine gun blended with the roar of roasting lava and the mechanical hiss of gears grinding. What was turning?

Too late, he figured out what was turning. A stone dragon emerged from the ceiling. It's wide open mouth stared right at him…and started glowing. "….holy shit."

He dove a second before the world was lit by the WHOOSH of fire from that wide open mouth. The stone dragon didn't blow stone fire. Nope. It blew real fire. And it tried to light his ass on fire while it did. He rolled and threw his back against the small wall that stood between him and the fire-breathing goliath.

The fire hit the stone behind him and scattered around it, throwing heat and smoke. Leon winced and hunkered, feeling the singe of the air close to his face. Jesus. What in the hell?!

The sound of gunfire was nearly lost beneath the fire that beat at the stone at his back. He waited, listening and staying down. Finally, the fire stopped and he took his one chance.

He threw himself over the top of the small wall with his gun aimed. The fire in the mouth of the dragon started glowing and he caught a glimpse of the man controlling the stone beast. He aimed, the fire sizzled and blasted toward his face, and he pulled the trigger.

The bullet took off and he was already on his belly on the ground, feeling the sizzle of the flame that had tried to obliterate his face. There was a gurgle and a loud splash followed by the mechanical clunk of gears. A loud squealing of metal sounded and the stone dragon shuddered and tumbled, throwing lava in a geyser as it crashed into the boiling blanket of heat beneath it.

Leon shuddered and listened. When only silence remained, he murmured, "Boom goes the dynamite."

Easing carefully to a crouch, he peeked around the edge of the small wall to be sure the destruction was complete before he rose to his feet and started running toward the gunfire. But it was quiet there too. Either the battle was over or her gun was empty.

Afraid of the first possibility, he leaped to the next platform.

They had her backed up to the edge of the one she was on. She was surrounded on three sides by them and had the lava at her back. She'd lost the machine gun somewhere and her pistol was on the ground between her and the four of them that were forcing her backward.

Leon stopped running and aimed at the first one that reached for her. She was braced to fight back but it wasn't going to get that far. Nope.

It was a clean shot through the eye. The robed cultist collapsed in a gush of blood. Jill swung her head toward him and he shifted to the second one. She ducked, the man reached over her head, and she drove her shoulders up and threw him behind her into the lava.

Leon shot the third one between the eyes before she could finish.

God damn, she thought a little madly, he was something that gun. How he could hit so perfectly from this far was a fucking gift. A gift. It was insane.

She ducked at the hands of the fourth one and he was smarter than his dead companions. He ducked too and grabbed her face. He lifted her off her feet by her face. The pressure on her neck was enormous. She kicked madly, trying to avoid the snap of her spine from her skull.

She heard the bullet hit. She heard it strike that metal mask the man was wearing. She knew it would have killed him but it couldn't get past that mask. Jill kicked the man in the chest and he just…dropped her.

She had a moment to realize he'd been dangling her over the lava and she plummeted.

Her hands scrambled, she screamed, and it didn't matter. She felt the heat rush up toward her, she pictured herself melting away into nothing, and her hands grabbed on to something. She was six inches from the lava.

The toes of her boots were warm from how close she was. She was holding on to the bottom of an enormous stone dragon. It started rising even as she dangled, gasping, shaking, and the rush of adrenaline and relief mashed inside of her and made her light-headed.

She could hear Leon shouting. She could see him, vaguely through the wavering air, fighting for his life. He was against at least six of them. She watched him parry and pivot and roll. She watched him move like a fucking ninja. He caught the first one around the face, spun him up under his arm, and used him like a brace to shoot the next one before breaking his neck.

He didn't waste a single movement. He dropped to one knee and put two in the next one. The fourth one reached for him and met with an elbow to the sternum. He rolled across that body, pivoted on the ground, and rose to his feet with his shoulder shoved into the meat of the other man's body. She watched Leon roll the man over his back, jerk his wrist up and put him on his face, and shoot him in the back of the head in a single fluid set of movements.

He threw a back kick at the next one before the gun had finished going off. He reached back, caught the man around the face, tucked him up under his arm and shot him in the face at point-blank range. Jill, dangling, admitted she'd never seen anyone, anywhere, move like that.

Leon threw the dead man into the last survivor. The body hit and the cultist stumbled. Leon kicked the body and sent them both to the ground. He put a boot to the dead one and shot the living one between the eyes beneath him.

Jill heard the pop of lava as the stone dragon kept rising. She watched him pant from the battle. Six to one and he didn't even get a scratch. He was incredible.

He was also grieving.

The second she watched it echo on his face, she realized he thought she was dead.

He dropped his gun to the stone beneath him and put his face in his hands.

And she realized he was…crying?

Her heart, like the Grinch before her, swelled three sizes too big. She wasn't sure it could be contained within her chest. Was he crying? Her love for him fairly choked her before she opened her mouth to shout and the dragon started grumbling above her.

She blinked and watched the fire blast from its mouth…right at Leon.

And now she did scream. She screamed his name but it was lost in the roar of flame.

She couldn't see anything now but the fire. She didn't know if he was alive or dead. She didn't know anything but horror. Her hands pulled, her arms shifted, and she started scaling the side of the enormous dragon. She was gasping as she cleared the neck and vaulted up into the cockpit above it. There was a cultist there at a set of controls aiming that horrible fire at where Leon had been.

Jill, panting, moved up behind him and drove her knife into his back.

She could have killed him instantly…but she didn't.

He spun around toward her and she kicked him in the groin. As he fell, she kneed him in the face and sent him onto his back. She cut off his stupid chanting by jerking him to the edge of the cockpit and tossing him into the boiling lava below.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she moved to the controls for the fire and shut it off. Breathing hard and fast, she tried to see anything in the wavering heat that meant he wasn't dead. She was so afraid she was going to see his charred corpse there on the ugly stone.

There were plenty of charred corpses. There was the acrid stench of cooking flesh. Were one of them him? Was he dead? Had he stood there amongst the dead and been roasted grieving for her?

It was horrifying to think of it.

The small lion ornament sat on the ground beside the controls. She picked it up and gripped it in her palm. It was the final piece. The final piece. They had all the pieces of the chimera now.

Jill climbed onto the nose of the dragon and leaped off, rolling when she hit the heated ground. Her breath was hitching as she moved toward the bodies. She didn't want to look. She didn't want to look at them. She didn't want to see them.

She didn't want to see HIM.

There were three bodies piled together. Hadn't there been two…and him? Hadn't there only been two?

She made a small sound of horror and touched the blistered, burning, blackened corpse with her toe. The body rolled to its back and showed naked bone and melted flesh. Her hand slapped against her mouth and tried to hold back the sob of it. Because the corpse had his pistol in its hand. It was twisted and melted to him like black tar.

The horror stole her breath. She felt her body start shaking like she was freezing. She shook her head, denying. Surely not. Surely this was not how Leon Kennedy died, roasted like a shish kabob in a filthy castle. No.

Her knife tumbled to the stone with a small clink of metal. She put her face in her hands and felt the crush of it try to take her down and kill her.

The pop and boil of lava were punctuated by her breathing. It was so quiet in the steamy air. Her shoulders shook and her chest heaved. She felt like someone had dropped kicked her in the lungs. She couldn't even cry. It was too deep and profound for that.

A hand grabbed her arm and she didn't even have the will to fight. She slapped wildly at them, gasping, and her attacker grabbed her slapping hand. "Jill!"

She had clearly snapped. She was hallucinating him now. She was hallucinating him there in the boiling heat and the wavering air.

And then he said, "Jill! Jesus Christ…I saw you fall…I thought…"

She made a small cry and fell against him. She tried to sink to her knees and he gathered her in to hold on. They clung; Jill, shaking and gripping handfuls of the back of his shirt. Leon, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

He scooped her sweaty hair out of her face with his hands. Jill curled her fingers into his vest. He whispered, "Jill…Jill…I thought…I just…god damnit…"

Her hands skimmed and petted his face. She shook her head and slicked the sweat off his face. If she'd been thinking clearly, she'd have remembered he'd dropped his gun before the fire had gone off. She would have known that wasn't him.

She couldn't think clearly with him around. Ever. Ever.

She shook her head again and gripped his face. His hands kept slicking her sweaty hair back. And she figured it was enough. It was enough.

Jill shoved him away because she wanted to keep holding on to him. She wanted to keep holding on. She shook her head and shoved him back another step.

Because she wanted to keep holding on.

Instead, Jill turned back the way they'd come and started running.

Leon watched her run, tunneling his hands into his hair. He blew out a hard breath and shook his head. Shit and double shit and piss. This is what caring about someone looked like. It looked like grieving for them wildly, insanely, completely… when you thought they were gone.

Christ on crutches. What was the point?

But he was already running after her.

She hurried up the steps and pushed through the door into the cool air. The drastic drop in temperature was startling. It stole her breath for a moment. It felt freezing outside when it had been boiling in that room.

Jill waited on the platform, breathing fast and deep.

The tears clogged her throat, but she REFUSED to let them fall. She was a wreck, clearly, for the man behind her in the boiling room. She was a wreck for him. How did she survive it? How did she survive loving Leon Kennedy? It was trying to kill her.

Her heart hammered in her chest. She lifted her hand and pressed her palm there to feel it. The charred body floated behind her closed eyes and haunted her. What if it had been him? How did she do this? How did she love a man that courted death like a whore?

Wasn't the risk of that too great? Wasn't the pain of that loss too wide and encompassing?

Her mind said: Isn't that always the case with love? Can you guarantee that a loving a weatherman would be any better? Or a school teacher? Love IS pain. It's wide and encompassing. And you can't make it go away just because you wish it. That's stupid. Don't be stupid.

The door opened behind her. She closed her eyes and waited. The press of cold metal in her palm had her eyes turning down. He'd brought her knife back to her.

Leon said, "You ran away from me so fast, you forgot it."

She glanced up at his face. He wouldn't look at her.

He tugged the lever and the platform groaned and rolled forward. He was sweaty and filthy and had circles under his eyes. There was a smear of black on his cheek and blood flecked on his neck and chin.

Jill felt the presence of him like a blow to the heart.

She shifted…and slid her hand into his. She kept her eyes straightforward as the platform rolled them across the empty abyss.

Leon didn't look at her, but he linked their fingers together and squeezed.

Jill whispered, quietly, "I didn't run from you. I ran from me. I ran from ME, Leon. Because I thought…I saw the fire…you just stood there and the fire…the fire….and then…that body…your gun…I just…I just –" Her voice broke and she shook her head, pursing her lips. Her eyes teared up, irritating her.

He finally glanced down at her face.

She kept staring forward.

And she avowed, "I'm sorry."

He lifted their joined hands and kissed hers. Jill closed her eyes, breathing.

The platform reached the far side and they let go of each other. She didn't look at him as they stepped off, but she said, softly, "I love you."

And she hurried away toward where Ashley waited in the gondola.

Leon watched her go, taking a moment to relearn to breathe passed the twin lumps of fear and grief that still clung like burrs in his throat. He'd seen her fall and lost something he couldn't get back. He'd dove into the fight like a man possessed. The loss, the horror, the pain had made him mad, had robbed and ripped away what was left of him and made him feral.

He had stood there amongst the dead and felt the absence of her like a wound that never stopped bleeding. He might have given up right then. He might have knelt in the blood and given up, but the sound of the fire had driven him to find cover instead. The will to survive had outpaced the grief and saved his life.

As he'd sat behind that wall and felt the fire rush around him, he'd wondered if there was any point in rising. What was he running toward? What was he chasing? He'd be dead soon enough anyway. What was inside of him would eventually devour him. He'd failed Jill. He'd failed Ashley. He'd failed himself. Why get up at all? Why not just sit there and wait for the end?

And then the fire had stopped, and he hadn't kept sitting. He'd risen. Because giving up wasn't something he knew how to do. All he knew how to do, was keep on going.

He'd risen, and he'd gotten ten feet before he'd heard the soft sound of grief.

He'd never forget the moment he'd turned back. He'd never forget the moment he'd seen her standing there immersed in the loss of him. He'd stumbled and nearly went to one knee reversing to go back to her.

He watched her climb into the gondola now with Ashley and the shiver of it stayed with him.

I love you, she'd said. Just like that. No games. No lies. No demands. I love you.

He'd seen her face when he'd pulled her hands away. He'd seen her face while she stood over what she'd thought had been his body. I love you, she'd said.

I love you had been all over her face. She'd grieved him like she'd loved him. She'd clung to him like she loved him. And she'd run from him like she loved him.

He believed her. I love you. Three words. Simple, complicated, redeeming.

Ashley leaned forward to hug her. Jill hugged back, laughing at something the other girl said. The battle was etched on her face. It was in the soot, in the sweat, in the blood and the bruises and the swollen lips and cheek. It was in her eyes and beneath in the hollows of her cheeks. She'd stood in the blood and mourned him.

The breeze tickled cold and soft over his sweaty face as he looked at her. He could see the line of trees beyond the open wall of the gondola. He could hear her heart like a whisper amongst the pines.

And she wasn't any longer just something that he craved.

She was something he needed. She was something he coveted.

She was something…he whispered, softly now, like a ghost of sound in the quiet night. "I love you, too."

And the truth of it carried on the breeze like a prayer.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Soooo...maybe it gets a little smutty. A little. *cough* This story is so fun. I don't even care that it has like a teeny tiny following at the moment. It's the first story I've written in awhile ENTIRELY for me and for funsies._

 _That said: Please enjoy it. And drop a note to me or a review and let me know why you do. Keeps me writing and feeling happy._

 _Shall we see what happens next? Why not?_

* * *

 **XI: EMINENT DOMAIN**

* * *

 ** _"Every man is a divinity in disguise, a god playing the fool."_**

 ** _― Ralph Waldo Emerson_**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain – 2004**

A short ride on their gondola dropped them back near the door they'd left behind. They put the pieces in their place, they completed the chimera – and they watched the wall rise to admit them further into their nightmare.

Another gondola waited beyond the narrow doors, inviting them to take a chance on the unknown. With little choice, they alighted and perched around the smooth red leather to start the ride. No popcorn. No corndogs. This wasn't a trip down the Tunnel of Love at a carnival…it was a smooth slide into madness. He'd have traded anything to be sitting in the Tunnel of Love with Jill and stale popcorn. Anything.

The trip in the gondola was quiet. The girls sat on one side, Ashley with her head on Jill's shoulder. Jill with her arm draped around the tired girl beside her.

Leon sat across from them, his arm lying along the back of the buttery red leather. The view was simply spectacular. As the little gold cart moved, the night spilled long and dark beside them. There were shadows on the moon, clouds on the dark that turned silver and smoky, and a castle that rose like a fairytale there in the moonlit sky.

Beautiful.

He shifted and his gaze slid back to the cart in front of him.

Jill was watching him. Her cheek lay on Ashley's smooth blonde hair. Her fingers stroked the girl's arm in a comforting hug. But her eyes? They were all on him.

They were nearly silver in the cool dark.

And that was beautiful too.

Ashley made a small sound and Jill realized she was sleeping. She'd fallen asleep on her shoulder. Touched, Jill shifted a little and smiled across the divide.

He sat there so casually. As if they weren't on a gondola ride in a castle where people weren't trying to eat them. As if they were on a date or enjoying a casual night out with friends. The gun on the leather seat beside him was still curled in his palm. And that made a liar out of that relaxed posture.

She'd seen him raise it, point it, and drill a man in a single smooth move from that kind of false relaxation before. She knew he wasn't relaxed. He was a cobra – waiting to strike.

His left arm rested on the door beside him. It was cocked and curious. His finger kept tapping his lips while he looked at her almost absently. A thinking gesture, no doubt, that likely had nothing at all to do with her.

Or maybe it was entirely about her.

Who knew?

He shifted his tapping hand and braced his chin with it. And he just kept on looking at her.

Jill returned the look, unflinching.

He was such a vocal man. His silence unnerved her a little. She'd once pegged him as goofy and silly and fun. He was more than that. Pockets of things she hadn't even begun to see. Diverse, verbose, and clearly a mystery.

The perpetual question of Leon Kennedy.

His bio read like a James Bond movie. His humor told the story of a nerd in a package so painfully pretty it was almost surely a cosmic joke. He was intelligent, intuitive, clearly skilled and capable of surviving. He was sweet, charming, almost ridiculously good-natured and flirtatious. He was kind, self-sacrificing, and possessed of a courage that put those around him to shame.

Why was he alone?

She couldn't get her head around it. What possible armor could he wear to drive away women to the degree that he wasn't wedding or bedding every girl he met?

Her mind said: maybe he is.

And it was the first time she paused to consider that.

She'd NEVER asked.

Not once.

She'd never asked if he had a wife at home. Or children. Or thirty-five girlfriends spread across the wide-open world. She was drawn to him to a nearly painful degree and yet she knew NOTHING about him. Not really.

It was humbling to sit there in that cart and realize it.

And then he shifted, and he smiled a little at her, and she realized it was also irrelevant.

It simply didn't matter.

She was in love with him. Whether it lasted a moment or a lifetime, she was there. What happened after this was too far off now to worry about. For now, she was in love with Leon Kennedy. And that was all she knew.

She was also, likely, one of many. So, she wasn't holding out any hope it would ever mean anything. But the girl in her, the romantic thing that she'd thought had burnt out and died in Raccoon City, couldn't help but hope.

She finally spoke, while Ashley snored softly against her, "How does this end?"

An interesting question. He considered it.

And then he said, "With you and Ashley safe."

Interesting.

He didn't include himself in the statement. And she was reminded of that altruistic heart that beat inside his beautiful chest.

Jill shifted and carefully laid Ashley on the buttery red leather. The girl curled up on her side, snoring and sighing. It was adorable.

The cold air was lovely on her face as Jill rose.

He watched her, so very coolly. His face was the same as the wind that spilled refreshing and calm against her skin.

Leon figured she was going to come and sit beside him. He left his arm along the back to sneak a little touch of her when she did.

She said, so softly, "Ask me how this ends, Leon Kennedy."

He held her gaze. He answered, "How does it end?"

"With you...beside me."

He waited for to sit beside him. So he could touch her.

But she didn't sit beside him.

She stole his breath and straddled him.

She slid onto his lap while the cold night threw castles and swirling, whispering pines around them. He could smell her perfume – something rich and earthy – that filled his nostrils and tortured his brain. Her knees smoothed into the leather of the seat on a sigh. Her thighs slid over his and she fitted against him like the piece of something he hadn't even known he was missing.

And she breathed against his mouth, "With you...inside me."

His blood fired fast and hot in his veins. The parasite? No.

The Girl.

He breathed her name, which robbed her blood and had it burning in her veins, and he turned his face up to her. The gun remained in his right hand, although it was forgotten, somehow it was superfluous. The moonlight flickered over his face and the gondola rocked beneath them, rubbing their bodies together without even trying. She shifted her fingers. She tugged latches and zippers.

And she spread his vest open beneath her hands.

He shifted like he'd touch her and she shook her head. So gently. She shook her head at him. So, he remained as he was, watching her.

Her palms slid over the shirt he wore, painting it to his skin. She could feel the hammer of his heart beneath the muscle of his pecs; she could hear the echo of hers in her ears for him.

The gondola rocked down the track, the sound of its wheels turning and rolling punctuated their breathing.

He should stop her. He should stop this. They were exposed. They were in the open. It was unsafe and dangerous and stupid.

He'd never wanted to be all three more in his whole fucking life.

Her hand shifted under his shirt. Her palm was cool on his fevered skin. She slid her hand up to lay it over his naked chest, above his heart, and her nails raked over one of his nipples. It stole his breath and she watched it echo from ears to lips.

Her face, he thought, it was branded in his brain. He could look at her forever. He could sit here in the cold with her like this and die here.

He made some sound and that hand retreated, passing over his excited nipple again. She rubbed a little on his lap. The weight of it rocked her body against his. She leaned in and pressed their chests together as her arms slid around his neck. It put her face above his. It brought them even.

He breathed her name again and it sounded so desperate. It sounded so needy. It rocked her in places she couldn't name. She wanted him like something that bled and hurt and burned. It was so wrong.

It was so right.

The track curved sharply, the gondola bumped around it and brought the wind to toss her hair and his. Her hands shifted. They slid around his throat. Her thumbs joined at the soft under side of his chin. They nudged his face up toward her.

Her thumb shifted and slid against the suggestion of a cleft there. And he breathed, so softly, "Jill…wait…"

And she didn't want to wait anymore. She was tired of waiting. For the right time. The right moment. The right circumstance.

She was tired of waiting for him.

Her body settled completely into his lap. And she whispered, "I can't."

Her mouth dropped. His opened to protest and she filled it with her tongue. It streaked from mouth to groin. It moved like an electrical current. It fired down his body and spilled him hard and aching beneath her rolling body.

He abandoned the gun beside him, finally, completely. His hands moved and settled on the smooth curve of her butt. He rocked her against him, sliding her over his throbbing need. Her mouth devoured, savoring the flavor of him like a junkie with a hit of something they couldn't live without.

His hands spilled up her back. They curved around her shoulders and tugged her into him. He answered the hunger of that questing tongue with his own. It was hands down, the best kiss he'd ever had. The master of unlocking?

Maybe she was.

The only thing he knew for sure was that she was the master of tongue fucking.

She petted his hair back from his face, came up for air, and went back in for more. He shifted his hands to her hips and guided her against his body. She didn't need much encouragement. She slid over him like she'd grind away the clothes and find him waiting beneath.

It was the first time since he was about fourteen that he was about to come in his pants from a girl dry humping him.

The master of dry humping. Seriously.

It was insane.

The gondola cornered again. It rocked and rolled. It spilled her tighter against him. And the rolling of her body shifted, just a little. She bounced and he spilled his guiding hand around her body. He just wanted to feel her. Just once. Just a little.

Jill sucked his tongue, stealing the gasp of him into her like she'd binge feed on it and die. She let go of his swollen mouth to draw a breath. His face stole her breath and kept it. His well used lips glossy and pink from hers. His eyes were closed, his skin flushed. The sharp blade of his nose invited hers to rub against it.

He was beautiful. And she was crazy for him.

She opened her mouth to take his again and the world went red at the edges. She hadn't even realized he'd unzipped her pants until his fingers skimmed into the open fly and over her panties. He cupped her needy body in his desperate palm and killed them both with it.

Her panties were damp. Damp. DAMP.

He rolled the heel of his hand against the damp cloth and on her engorged body beneath it. She shifted, gasping, and her hips rode him. She rode against his body like it would work and he'd be free to plow into her where he sat.

It inflamed. It engorged. It engaged the senses like euphoria and madness and glee.

And it was insane.

Insane.

Because they could corner this damn gondola once more and come face to face with a thousand bad guys that wanted their blood. Because Ashley could wake up and see them at any second. Because it made no sense to keep going. It was insanity.

And it didn't matter anymore.

He shifted her panties with his fingers. The gondola rocked right and dipped down a slight incline. It pushed his fingers against the wet heat of her. And as it rolled up the other side, he finished it. He ground his forehead against her breasts and delved his fingers into the heat of her.

Wet, slick, she closed around him and gasped.

She dragged his mouth up to her. She rocked on his fingers and sucked his tongue and he watched her face in the flickering moonlight. His fingers were merciless, relentless, and smooth. He pumped them and curled them into her and felt the moment she tightened.

She gasped. She bowed. And she spilled wet and needy into his palm.

It the single sexiest thing that had ever happened to him. Ever.

The gondola cornered once more and began to slow. He played his fingers in the sticky heat of her and felt her thighs quiver. His free hand grabbed the back of her neck and he pulled her to him to tongue her mouth. She opened her eyes, quaking atop him.

He ground their mouths together and his voice dragged out of his chest, "Damnit, Jill, I wanna be inside you."

It was the best thing she'd heard all night.

She whispered back, "I'm not an easy lay, Leon Kennedy. Come earn me."

Holy shit she was the hottest thing he'd ever had his hands on. Without a doubt. She was fire in the open air – growing and flourishing with each infusion of desperate oxygen. She was poison. She killed where she touched. She was a storm in his blood. He wasn't a man given to wanting to ride the lightning.

But he wanted to ride hers.

She rolled off his lap. He lifted his hands to fix his vest. He curbed the desire to lift his fingers to his mouth and lick them so he could know her taste.

But the want of it was nearly paralyzing.

There was no one waiting for them at the landing where the gondola was headed. It was just the empty night and the breeze. And his heavy breathing.

And hers.

The gondola rolled to a stop and he whispered, "We should wake her, I guess."

His voice cracked.

It made her feel like she was flying.

She felt the need of him in her like something painful.

He started to move to wake Ashley and Jill caught his vest in her hand. She tugged and he slid across the seat and into her. She curled her arm around his shoulders, slid her fingers into his hair, and turned him into her mouth. His brain shot out his ass and went somewhere out into the cold night.

Her hand found him over his pants and fisted. She worked him over his clothes with her hot little fist and made him feel about fifteen years old. He grunted, gasped, and the kiss she gave him was so wet that it made him tremble in her arms.

Leon gripped her hips and ground himself against her. Fifteen indeed. He humped against her hand and ground against her body like a teenage boy. She laughed breathily into his mouth as she clung to him, milking him over his pants without any care in the world.

So this was his Thanksgiving, he thought wildly.

Saving girls, fighting bad guys, making bad puns, getting infected with weird parasites…and dry fucking Jill Valentine in a gondola overlooked by what appeared to be the Disney castle.

In some ways, it was maybe the best Thanksgiving ever.

In others, an utter fucking mess.

As his blood shot into his dick and her milking fist increased its crazy, killing rhythm, he thought – right in that moment – probably the best. Definitely the best.

His mouth dropped and sucked her through her top. It brought her mouth open in a mewling gasp.

And it was definitely the breast Thanksgiving ever. Without a doubt.

Because apparently, even inches away from coming in his pants like a horny boy, he was going to pun. He was, after all, Leon Kennedy.

He gasped against her mouth now, desperate, "Wait, Jill, wait…I'm gonna come if you don't stop..just wait…"

His voice was raspy. His cheeks were graced with twin blooms of color. His eyes were dilated and bright. And she wanted to watch that face while he came.

She wanted to see it.

She whispered back, "So, come. Now. Come now. Let me see you come."

Yep. The hottest chic he'd ever met. Officially.

He hand shifted and slid over his flat, muscled tummy. He sucked it in on a hard breath and she wedged those fingers in his pants. The tips of her nails brushed the head of his dick and she moaned a little. Because he was sticky, slippery, and weeping for her.

She gasped, "I want to see what you taste like."

And that worked. It worked like a charm. His balls tightened, his breath fell out in a sound that was vaguely like a moan, and he knew he was going to come all over her slippery fingers.

His face rooted around her breasts to try to get a taste of her. Her fingernail caught, just a little, on the weeping slit of his dick and he finally got one of those nipples into his mouth through her shirt. He sucked hard, Jill let out a tiny cry, and two of her fingers slid around his needy cockhead like a tongue.

He was ready. His breath hitched. His teeth closed around that cloth covered nipple and a voice filled the air around them, "Seriously!? NOW is when you start grabbing his ass!?"

Like ice water dumped all over them, it broke the bubble of want around them.

They broke apart, gasping. He rolled off her and racked his knee on the door. Which hurt a lot…and also helped clear his head. Jill scrambled to sit up, red-faced and panting. Her nipples were pointy and desperate in her top. Her left one showed a nice damp circle where he'd been trying to feast on her.

"You guys are retarded for each other. Seriously. Five more minutes and I'd have woken up to you fucking on the floor beside me. This is NOT professional behavior. No. Not even a little bit. Shame on you both. You are AGENTS. I have never seen the secret service dry humping in a gondola. Never in my life. You both need to be fired."

She was TOTALLY fucking with them. Actually, she was glad they were grabbing on each other. It was about time. Seriously, why not? They could be dead any second.

Leon threw his hands to his face and huffed out a breath. He grabbed his hair and tugged. Jill adjusted her ponytail and waited for the fire in her cheeks to die down.

Ashley glanced between them…and started laughing.

She laughed and laughed.

It was contagious. They couldn't help it. Admittedly, it was ridiculous. Groping and sucking face and dry humping inches from death. Utterly fucking stupid.

But he couldn't seem to find the strength to care.

He was more concerned with the fact that he was now, probably, going to be cursed with a perpetual set of blue balls.

They exited the gondola with Ashley giggling at them a little. Jill couldn't stop smirking either. He didn't know what was so fucking funny, seriously. He was walking around with a chubby angling toward his belly button and leaking all over him. Nothing funny there.

Nope.

Jill Valentine: Ultimate cock tease.

He focused on what was happening with a tug of resentment. He cleared them into the castle again, gesturing with his head when he made sure the area was secure. There were three options for them to try here.

A door to the left. A hallway before them. And another door to the right.

Choices choices.

Ashley was giving Jill shit about him. He gritted his teeth against their laughter and finally said, harshly, "You two chuckleheads go laugh it up that way, ok? I'm going this way. Meet back here in fifteen minutes."

He kicked open the door to the right and cleared through it with a vengeance.

Ashley glanced at Jill as he left.

"….the piece of ass is pissed off."

Jill couldn't stop the snort of laughter. She shook her head, loving the girl a little. "It would seem that way."

"Dude has blue balls. It's making him nuts. You need to find a quiet gondola and finish him off."

Jill was still laughing as they turned left and went through the door there into the other chamber.

Leon muttered under his breath as he crossed down a long hallway with countless suits of armor. He could feel their silent judgment of him. He paused, eyeing one with a halberd lifted high above its dusty head. The stupid feather atop its helmet taunted him.

It looked judgmental as hell. If armor could judge.

Leon said, with ire, "What?! So, I did it ok? I did it. I put my fucking hand in her pants. I forgot about the damn mission so I could finger Jill Valentine. That was me! I did that. Ok!? I'm not perfect. I'm just a dude. Just a plain old dude that likes putting his fingers in girls pants. Sue me! Seriously. Sheesh."

Well, it was official. He was fucking dumber than cat piss. He was now defending himself against judgmental suits of armor. The guilt of losing sight of his mission for a case of finger fucking made him feel like shit.

Apparently, it also made him feel the need to go on the defensive against non-living entities like they'd offered him that look his mother had often had when he'd snuck in after curfew and smelled like he'd been balls deep in some girl all night. The good news was, the armor wasn't going to make him do chores and ground him for it. It was also unlikely it would make him call the girl in question and apologize for taking advantage of her and not treating her like a lady.

So there was an upside there.

He wondered if Jill Valentine wanted him to apologize for filling her needy little cunt full of his fingers.

Aaaaand now he was hard again.

Mother of GOD. There was no break from it. He'd been walking around with a leaking dick from the moment he met her. She was a TEASE. She was the world's worst tease. He kinda hated her for it.

He stopped walking. He considered the truth of that. He liked it. Yep. She was the tease. It was all her fault. He was a mere mortal man. She'd leaped on his lap and tongue fucked him. She'd broken into his hotel room and felt him up. She'd stuck his hand in her bra and rolled her fingers over his dripping dick.

SHE was the bad guy here. Yep. Not him. HE was vindicated. A victim of her woman's wiles meant to enslave and torture him and leave him pulsing and aching for her. ALL HER.

Jill Valentine: MAN EATER.

ALTHOUGH THAT WASN'T TRUE EITHER. That was the problem here. He WANTED her to eat him. Swallow him up. Gobble gobble. Like a turkey. Like he was the turkey on Thanksgiving.

That was the problem here. Nobody was eating him.

The only thing eating him right this second was GUILT. And a rather strange urge to take a piss, which brought to mind the question of the last time he actually HAD stopped to pee. He couldn't remember. Which was kinda sad.

He passed into a small room filled with armor. There was a podium in the center of the enormous circle with a chest atop it. He blinked, curious. And he paused. The floor was carved gold and blue, covered in fleur de lis. There were suits of armor in each outcropping surrounding the circular chamber. The last time he'd headed toward a chest in the center of the room, it had sprung a trap on him and released one of those blind fuckers with the claws.

He considered how much he REALLY wanted what was in that chest.

Easing forward, refusing to be a coward, he glanced around like a kid trying to stick their hand in the cookie jar. He waited for something to pop out and eat him. He opened the chest and blindly grabbed inside it. A goblet filled his hand. Or a chalice? Something. It had a cameo on it in the shape of a King?

"Mmk."

He tucked the little chalice in his pack with the other goblet he'd found the FIRST time he'd opened a chest in this damn place.

He turned to head back and the room started shaking.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Of course, there was a trap.

A gate started to slide down over the opening he came from.

And the utterly judgmental suits of armor started jerking away from the walls where they'd been watching him. They started stomping toward him with enormous swords and halberds and terribly fluffy feathers on their helmets.

"Oh...HELLLLL no."

He ducked, felt the air swish above him when one swung, and ran for it.

The gate was nearly down. A suit of armor took a slice at him with that sword, it caught his arm and spilled his blood, and Leon dove through the narrow opening left of the gate. He skidded, he slid, he hit the far wall and sent the armor still hanging out there clattering with great clangs of metal.

The other ones kept trying to get to him but they were cock blocked by the gate.

Leon rubbed his bruised tailbone and rose, glancing down at the blood dripping down his arm. "Thanks, alot, metal mouth. You know who the roundest knight at King Arthur's table was? No? Sir Cumference. Buh dum dum."

And it felt really good to pun.

It would have felt really good to CUM too but clearly, that wasn't happening.

Annoyed, Leon moved back down the hallway while the clanging suits of armor kept right on trying to get to him. Dumb pieces of steel. Seriously.

He stepped back into the hallway and heard it.

It was pretty bad. It was loud and grinding. It was punctuated with Ashley screams.

He was already running.

He kicked open the door to the room where Jill had gone with her. The ceiling was frozen above them. It was INCHES from his head. What was inches from his head you might ask? SPIIKES. STEEL SPIKES. The ceiling was made up of thousands of spikes.

"Jesus, Salazar, I think we get the "point"."

Yep. He was punning again. All over the place.

Bad news.

But the room was empty save for the spikes and some statues hanging out around him in various weird spots. He took a step and a little panel rumbled uselessly under his foot. Curious, he glanced at it.

And then Ashley SCREAMED.

"LEON! OH, MY GOD! HURRY!"

And his blood was FIRING. It was choking him. The panic tore up his guts and had him barreling into the next room without even clearing it. There was no need. It was only Ashley, jerking on some bars and screaming. Because Jill was lying on the floor beyond a lowered gate.

She was bleeding and not moving.

There was a dead...something there on the floor beside her. It looked vaguely like the damn things you found in Alien that wanted to impregnate you. It was was deader than shit. She'd carved it up something fierce. It was blood and burst flesh and weird pokey limbs. But she was down. And she was still.

And there was a MASSIVE machine headed toward her. It had a funnel on the end made of spinning steel and spikes. It reminded Leon of The Cleaners from the Labyrinth. It was backed by two men guiding it down the impossibly small tunnel toward Jill's body. They were going to hit her and turn her into kibbles and bits. Like a god damn food processor.

Leon could hear, somewhere, that high pitched squealing little laugh of the world's most evil midget.

It grated on his nerves. And it fired righteous anger into his guts and brought his gun up. Ashley stepped out of the way.

Leon ignored the spinning steel. He ignored the noise, the rush, the laughter. He went to that place that existed inside of him to kill. It was white there, like snow and winter. Cold and comforting. And calm.

There was no hard dicks there or burning needs or fear. It was calm there.

And it was perfect.

He aimed between the tiny opening at the top of that spinning steel death machine. He waited for the precise second.

And he fired.

The bullet winged. It zipped. And it took the top of the cultists grinning head off in a wash of blood and bone. He slumped, losing control of his machine. The other scrambled to get back the control and Leon shifted the gun to him. He put the second shot right through his left eye while the garbed man panicked.

The machine lost control the moment it lost its drivers. It started rocketing and rolling like mad now. It teeter-tottered and smashed into the walls beside it. But it was STILL COMING.

Ashley was jerking on the bars now. "JILL! JILL GET UP! GET UP!"

Leon reared back and drove a hip kick into the gate. It shivered but held. He drove another. It made a small squeal of metal bending. With a cry of rage, he kicked it a third time and it cracked and spilled backward, clanging loudly in the shivering air.

The machine was racing toward them as Leon ran into the narrow passageway.

Ashley shouted a denial.

Ignoring her, he skidded to a stop and grabbed for Jill. She shifted boneless into his arms as he tossed her over his shoulder. The machine passed within a hairsbreadth of his back as he staggered and turned, racing toward the door he'd left behind. It chased him, roaring for his blood.

Leon hit the door with Jill and the machine the space he'd been a second after. It ripped at the frame and the stone. It bucked and shuddered. And it whined to a stop, embedded there.

Leon swung Jill up and around in his arms, which was pretty impressive to Ashley. He didn't even seem to buckle under her weight a little bit. Her ponytail whipped as she went over and bounced into his embrace. And she was awake.

She was awake and looking at him.

She said, softly, "Did you just save me?"

"...potentially. Did you almost lose a fight with the impregnating bug thing from Alien?"

And now Jill smiled a little. And she answered, "...potentially. But we found a cup."

Ashley held it aloft like an ugly trophy. It was the twin of his with a Queen instead of a King.

Leon was still holding Jill. He said, "You almost got killed by The Cleaners."

"Looks that way." She touched his bleeding arm. "Do I want to know?"

"The judgmental armor tried to kill me."

They held eyes for a long moment. Jill's fingers shifted to the inside curve of his bicep. It played there a little and had goosebumps popping on him. "It tried to kill you for what? Bad puns?"

...so maybe that hurt his feelings. A little. "The puns are good. Don't diss the puns. The puns are the highest form of humor."

And she grinned. "Hmm. Hmmmmm. I think you're misquoting, Mr. Kennedy."

"Possibly. Probably. Who cares?" He set her on her feet reluctantly. Ashley was pursing her lips.

He glanced between them. "Ok. What's happening here? Spill the beans."

Ashley smirked a little. Jill grinned. And they both laughed out loud.

Annoyed, Leon turned back to the door beyond the spiked ceiling. He was muttering even as they hurried after him. "Women."

Why did he bother?

Really?

They were giggly, goo-goo eyed things with big tits that were playing with his dick one minute and running away the next. He should just pay a hooker and cut out the middleman. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't just...forget about dating. Really. He was fucking charming as hell. Right? He caught a glimpse of himself in the silver filigreed bust on the door as they stepped back into the hallway.

Good looking dude, right? He was good at sex too, objectively speaking. Sweaty nights in high school and plenty of porn watching had promoted him from nerdy track star to Don Juan. Yep. He kept the women happy. So, maybe he wasn't sporting a porn star dick but it was better than average. If he were comparing. Which he WASN'T. He was NOT comparing his dick to other guys. He was just waxing intellectual about it on a purely scientific basis here.

He manscaped down there. He kept it tidy and neat for the ladies. He was NEVER a man who left a girl unsatisfied. If you went to bed with him, you got your rocks off. End of story. Damnit. He KNEW fucking with girls and feelings was a mess. He KNEW that. Why was he messing with the icky love stuff?

Nothing but trouble there.

Totally stupid. Ashley eased passed him to peep around the corner of the narrow hallway. And Jill moved with her...and skimmed her hand over his butt as she went.

He jumped like she'd struck him. Which...she LOVED. And found ADORABLE.

His brain shot right out his ass and plopped somewhere back behind him.

Oh, durf, THAT was why he messed with the icky love stuff. Because she was so gorgeous she hurt his head looking at her. And she kept rocking on his lap in gondolas. And groping him in dirty buildings. And shouting I love you in the rain. And sliding her hand over his ass for no reason.

Lord.

He was a fucking mess. It was that simple.

He eased around the edge of the hallway and bumped into Jill's back.

Both she and Ashley were paused in the chamber beyond.

It was something to see, admittedly.

Floor to ceiling windows were wide open. The curtains covering them were fluttering and flapping in the wind that barreled through. Moonlight cast the stone into silvery shadows and pockets of light. The thunder rumbled and punctuated the two statues that waited at the end of the long corridor. A King and a Queen made of stone and holding their cupped hands forward as if waiting for a gift.

Or as if they were waiting for a DRINK.

He stepped forward and started across the room.

Jill watched him move. His hair caught that beautiful wind and shivered around his face. The moonlight and fractured shadow skimmed his face and body. His arms were roped with muscle above the elbow pads he wore. His eyes were so blue in the moonlight it was like staring into ice crystals in the sun. He needed a cape, she thought objectively, to ripple in that wind and mark him the hero. He needed a cape.

Or to be entirely naked. Which...made her feel funny in her pants.

The curtain beside him whipped and fluttered as he settled each cup in the waiting palms. He turned back and the door shuddered. It groaned. And the gate lifted that barred access to the door beyond it.

Ashley was peeping out one of the windows. Her pretty blonde hair flew around her head like mad. Leon Kennedy stood in the wind and it caressed him. Jill and Ashley stood in the wind and looked like they'd stuck their fingers in an electrical socket. Wild whipping hair and clothes thrown around. The world was sometimes cruel and unfair.

They moved toward the door to open it and the chanting started. It started back the way they'd come. It was so loud. It grew in volume. It echoed. It was mutinous and murderous.

There were at least six of them coming.

They had...shields. They had riot shields made of wood and spikes. They ducked and made a wall and moved toward them.

They'd wised up. They knew their enemy better. They knew they were too unskilled to fight hand to hand and win. They were going to win with sheer numbers and force.

Leon intoned, gruffly, "Ashley...hide."

And she moved. She ran around the corner of the wall and ducked. She used the shadows and the wind and blended in pretty fucking well. If you weren't LOOKING for her, you'd likely over look her altogether.

Jill said, quietly, "We can run, here, Leon. We can run through the door."

And he laughed. He just laughed. And said, "You met me? I don't run."

"You were running from the chainsaw man."

...well shit.

And now he shook his head. "Brat."

She was chuckling as he started toward the advancing men with shields.

He stepped into the wind from those windows with their rippling red curtains and something happened. He stopped being the walking wet dream with the bad puns...and he became a hero.

The wind tossed, it blew angry breath around him in a massive gust. It tried to take her breath with it as it hit him, swirled around him, and came right at her. He lifted the shotgun over his head, legs spread, stance ready and he pumped a round into the chamber with a snap of sound that made her jump.

The wind stole her breath.

No...he did.

She shook herself and ranged herself beside him. The wind kicked around her and tried to knock her down. It threw her ponytail into her face while she spit out hair and coughed.

He glanced at her with a raised brow and a smirk.

She said, "Kiss ass, Kennedy."

And he laughed.

And then his face shut down. And she was looking again at the man in the roaring fire. He put the assault gun to his shoulder and blasted the wall of shields that came for them.

Jill grabbed him from behind, startling him. She threw him toward the open window and stepped into him. Her hands came up to shield his face and the flashbang grenade went off.

The world was white and bright and smoky.

She pushed away from him, jerked the assault gun from his hands while he blinked, and went to town. She blasted staggering cultists while they scattered. She drove a hip kick into one still holding that shield and blew his face apart while he shouted.

Jesus. She was something.

Leon stopped staring at her ass and started helping her. Turns out, he could get his head out of his dick after all. At least enough to be totally fucking useless.

He ducked the flail that came at his head and grabbed the shield from his attacker at the same time. They resisted and Leon swung a hook into their face that cracked teeth. Somewhere, Jill thought, Chris was chortling.

The shield spilled into his hands and Leon used it like a sword. He swung it out and smashed it into that staggering face, reversed and spun down to the ground, and slung it out like a frisbee.

It spun and smashed into three of them, scattering them like bowling pins. Impressed, Jill finished off them an in front of her with a blast to the chest. She turned and thought about helping...but he didn't need any help.

Because he'd picked up the flail.

The chain and spiked ball rankled with metal as he advanced. The three garbed cultists were rising, still chanting. Still calling for death. And he started swinging the flail.

Like he knew what he was doing. Like he used a flail every day. He woke up, had coffee, smoked a ciggy, fucked a hundred chics, killed hoards of the undead and swung a flail. Tuesday morning with Leon Kennedy.

The idea made her chuckle.

The flail decimated. It was gross. It was kinda grossly awesome. It hit and crunched bone. It hit and threw blood. He jerked it free of faces and came back for more.

She was so busy watching him swing that flail she didn't realize they were no longer alone. She heard the movement a moment too late, turned, and got a fist to the face for it.

It hurt like a mother fucker. It lifted her up and threw her out like she'd been kicked by a horse. She collapsed around the pain and slid along the floor into the tossing wind.

She hit the wall and slid to the floor on her side, gasping.

And she HEARD him. And she'd NEVER heard him sound like that. That voice that laughed and joked and gasped. It grumbled and murmured and moaned...musically. But it NEVER sounded like that.

Rage and fury. Deep. It dragged out of his chest like a bear.

"You brainwashed PIECE OF SHIT. I'm gonna shove that fist up your ass and fuck you to death with it!"

She had to laugh, a little. Because she couldn't quite move yet. She was kinda trying to figure out if she was broken. But she laughed. So, she wasn't dead.

And there was that dialogue she'd heard so much about. In times of battle, Leon Kennedy became a Marvel comic. He started throwing around cheesy, corny, ADORABLE threats.

She wanted to stick her hand in his pants and finish the job.

Damnit.

Instead, she watched him move in the wind. He dropped the flail, surprising her. He didn't need it. Of course not.

He met the masked man in the center of his fallen comrades and dropped. He went to one hand and buffalo kicked the cultist like Chun-li or Bruce Lee. Or her. It was one of her favorite moves, objectively.

The masked man went backward. He went out the open window. But he didn't drop down into nothing. There was a small balcony that waited beyond.

He hit the railing and staggered.

Leon pursued him into the glistening night. And he wasn't entirely useless. He wasn't nearly as dumb as his brethren.

He caught the boot Leon drove at him and jerked. And he was strong enough to make it count. He lifted Leon and threw him. Jill watched him roll through and leap to his feet. And then Leon started grinning.

"Alright alright. FINALLY. I'm tired of fighting fucking assholes without any skill. It's like punching kids. Just feels wrong."

Jill shifted on the ground, feeling her fingers tingle. Ok. OK. Not broken. Just wounded. She watched them fight.

Leon kicked, he rolled, he punched. The masked man reversed and pivoted, he blocked, and he landed a shot to the solar plexus that sent Leon staggering.

Jill watched it happen. She watched the masked man pull the knife from within his robes. It was HUGE. The biggest fucking knife she'd ever seen. Gold and black and awful. She watched Leon rise around the pain and knew he'd be getting a belly full of blade.

Her foot started tingling. She wasn't ready yet to get up. She couldn't MOVE. But her hand could.

She shivered. The knife drove toward his belly. Leon spilled back to block it. And the boom of sound startled into the empty silence.

Because she'd shot the masked man from the floor on her side. The bullet winged. It glanced off his mask with a squeal of metal and spark of light. And worked.

It worked.

Because Leon blocked the blade, reversed it, jerked it from those driving hands and stuck it up under his sternum. He grabbed the masked man by the throat, rolled his shoulder into the meat of his body, and drove the blade home.

Blood pumped, red and sticky. And Leon jerked the blade free in a spill of it. He shoulder bumped the man away and turned back toward her. She wanted to shout out a warning but didn't need to. Because he delivered a back kick to the dying cultist that sent him flipping over the narrow railing behind him and plummeting into the dark.

Ashley reached her first.

"Jill! Are you ok?"

"I'm good. I'm great. I keep getting knocked the fuck down...but I'm ok."

Ashley helped her up, looping her arm around her shoulders.

Touched, Jill smiled down at her as they eased their way toward the far doors.

Leon flipped the bloody knife in his hands and offered it to her.

Jill glanced at his face in surprise.

He said, quietly, "I heard somewhere that you were the best."

Jill held his gaze. And grinned, "That's the rumor."

"Thanks back there. I probably had it. But thanks."

Worst show of gratitude EVER. What was with men? None of them cover ever just say: DUDE YOU SAVED MY LIFE. I OWE YOU A COOKIE.

Nope. It was always qualifications. I probably had it, blah blah blah.

"Hmm. You're welcome."

They eased through the door and were in...some kind of totally gross chamber. It smelled like rotting feet and fart. It smelled like the beehive he'd found in the woods as a kid that was falling apart and filled with dead bugs. He'd poked it with a stick and watched a TON of totally NOT dead bugs fly out to try to sting him to death.

The room smelled like that beehive.

It also appeared to have some kind of...hive. Some kind of HIVE itself dangling in the great vaulted ceiling above them. The room felt more like a cave then a castle. There was a drawbridge on the far side and a narrow path of slippery rock across a cavernous drop into the great beyond.

The wide open room above them was missing huge chunks of stone. It left holes along the ceiling that had granted the elements access to the room. Rain and mold had rotted wood and left rock slick with rain and moss. There was a strange sound happening that Leon DID NOT like at all.

It sounded like the rapid flutter of bees wings. And he was reminded, again, of that hive in the woods as a kid.

They moved along the narrow walkway. Ashley was touching Jill's nose, tenderly. "Is it broken?"

Jill wiggled her face, testing. It hurt, no lie there. But it didn't feel broken.

"Just fucked up. Hopefully."

She spit a spot of blood on the ground. And moved her jaw and teeth around. All appeared intact. She queried, "I got all my teeth still?"

And grinned at Ashley.

Who laughed a little. "Looks that way."

"Thank god. How'd I look with a hockey mouth huh? Missing three teeth or something. Awful."

Ashley chortled and hugged her while she helped her walk. "I'd still love you."

"Ah, thanks, girl. I love you too."

"Even if you were uglier than fuck afterward."

"...and now I love you less."

Ashley giggled and said, "And naturally, I'd have to step in and take your sex on a stick over there away from you. He can't be found fucking ugly chics, Jill. If the world finds out he throws down on fuggos, he'll never be left alone. Every fat soccer mom and horse-faced coed in fifty states will start chasing him. He'll have to go into the hotness protection program. It won't be pretty. HE will still be pretty. But his life will be a series of phone sex jobs and seclusion alone in a cabin somewhere."

Jill could NOT stop laughing. She LOVED this girl.

"He won't be allowed to go out in public. He'll have to watch bad television and eat take out Chinese and jerk off, Jill. JERK OFF. He will have to be WASTED on HIMSELF. I can't let that happen. I'm sorry. It's just not right."

Leon glanced behind him with narrowed eyes. "What are you two giggling about back there?"

Ashley called back to him, "Don't you worry, handsome. We're just discussing the ramifications of socialism from an economic stand point. You want to throw your two cents in?"

Leon rolled his eyes and shook his head. He moved to pull the small crank and start lowering the drawbridge.

Ashley said, out the corner of her mouth, "Shoo. I think I tricked him. Thank god he's pretty, Jill. I'm not entirely sure he's all that bright. You heard him? He PUNS, Jill. All the time. It's not good."

Jill dropped her cheek to Ashley's head and just laughed.

Ashley murmured, "Watch." And she called, "Heya, hotshot. What's happening there?"

Leon sighed and rotated the lever in his hands. "Doing this kinda shit makes me "cranky"."

Ashley kept her face dead pan but looked up at Jill. She lifted her brows as if to say, See? I told you so.

Jill chuckled as the drawbridge lowered to the floor. And she whispered back, "So maybe he puns alot. But...you wanna know something?"

Ashley looked up at her, curious. "Hmm?"

"That mouth may not be all that clever with dialogue...but it's a WIZARD with its tongue."

And now Ashley let out a laugh so loud that Leon narrowed his eyes again at them. He was 99% sure they were laughing AT him. He just wasn't sure why.

He muttered, "Women." And finished rolling the drawbridge down.

They started across it. Jill and Ashley were giggling about god knew what.

And the fluttering got louder.

It sounded too close. It sounded like it was right on top of them.

The back of his neck CRAWLED.

Leon grabbed for his gun and something came over the side of the walkway where he was standing. It was one of those ugly cockroach things from the sewer system. Kinda. Kinda it was. But this one had WINGS.

It didn't bother to swipe those talons at him. It did some kind of jump and KICKED him. It propelled those spindly legs into his sternum and stomach and straight up THREW him across the room. Leon hit the drawbridge, slid to the ground, and tried to relearn how to breathe.

And Ashley was screaming. "LEON!"

He tried to get up.

He shouted, "ASHLEY! RUN!"

Jill grappled to hold on as one of the flying things grabbed the other girl and took flight with her in its clutches. She nearly had her back and another one of them grabbed Jill.

She screamed. She fought. It didn't care.

It picked her up to carry her off with a flapping tornado of sound right behind Ashley.

Leon staggered to his feet, giving chase. For all the good it would do, "JILL!"

And they were gone. Out the shattered roof. Into the night.

Leon stumbled and faced the bugs that gathered on the slippery rock around him. He rolled the shotgun into his hands. And got ready to go down fighting.


	13. Chapter 13

_+Author's note: So, we get a little smutty again here. Sorry. It has to happen. The story NEEDS the love. Needs it. I giggled. I'm such a girl._

 _Thank you, as always, for reading it. I love writing it. It's so fun._

 _Slainte._

… _._

* * *

 **XII: Dance with the Devil**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

In the smooth shift of darkness, she felt the roll of something that might have been awakening.

Following the thread of it, Jill gasped, and her body bowed.

She was lying on a soft mattress in an ornately decorated room. Intrigued, Jill sat up gingerly on the heavy brocade where she lay. She blinked and looked down at herself…and realized she was in a robe.

It was…clearly meant to offer her up as some kind of sacrifice. She was in white, it was thin and belted at her narrow waist. She was in some kind of silky white camisole or something beneath it. They'd put one of those horrible pendants around her throat and her hair was braided tightly to her head in a crownlike pattern. Her legs and feet were bare and she'd been stripped of all her weapons.

Jill slid from the bed, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror that rose beside it to cover the far wall. The heavy pendant swung between her breasts, offending her, and frightening her. She was trapped in this bedroom without an escape route, dressed like a virgin sacrifice, and somewhere within a hostile wasteland of psychotic cultists.

She was in trouble here.

The worst part was that she wasn't her first concern.

She didn't think of her own safety.

She thought of his.

Where was he?

If they'd taken her, they'd had to have done it over his dead body.

There was no other choice there.

Jill's hand lowered and pressed against her lower belly. She breathed sharp and low. She tried to huddle around the horror of feeling it. She tried to picture those horrible bugs ripping him to pieces. It pulled a small sound of pain and angst from her mouth.

The truth here was simple: if they had her, they had Ashley, and Leon was dead.

There was no other way they'd have taken them both.

Her brain said: the bugs took you both. You didn't see him go down. You don't KNOW that he's dead. You don't KNOW it.

She searched inside of herself for the truth of that small kernel of hope.

It felt right.

It felt good to believe it.

She said, to the mirror, quietly, "He's not dead."

And she liked how that sounded.

Jill moved to the dresser beside the bed. There wasn't really anything worth using there. There were a mirror and an old brush. There was a basin filled with rose scented water. There was a warm washcloth that someone had clearly used to bathe her body…which alarmed and disgusted her.

And there was a sound at the door.

Someone was coming.

Torn between faking sleep to see where they took her and taking her shot at escape, Jill hesitated.

The door shivered and opened. The first cultist through the door was holding a bedpan.

Jill didn't bother to wait.

She kicked the bedpan. It went up into his face, she grabbed it from his surprised hands and smashed it into his face. He reeled, she hit him again and he went into the wall, and Jill kicked him in the crotch, smashed the bedpan into the back of his head, and down he went to his face on the floor.

He didn't move again but she broke his neck for good measure anyway.

Dragging his body into the room, she ranged it beside the bed. She frisked the corpse for anything worthwhile and found the small hatchet tucked on his belt. Hefting it, she felt a little less afraid. At least she had a weapon.

She did take his shoes as well. They were stupid roman style sandals that had to be wrapped up her legs but at least she wasn't barefoot anymore. She was in a sacrificial virgin outfit out of a bad horror movie, complete with fitted bell sleeves and some kind of horrible robe that barely reached mid-thigh. She was lost in a castle filled with people trying to kill her. She was alone, scared, outnumbered and without a real weapon…but at least she had a hatchet.

Amused, Jill eased open the door and glanced out into the long hallway.

She was in some kind of tower or something. The curving hallway in front of her suggested stairs at the sharp hook. Moving forward, Jill eased down those stairs. They continued in a curling pattern as she descended. She could hear thunder rumbling in the distance, suggesting more fucking rain.

As she reached the bottom of the tower, she could hear the shouting.

Lots of the cultists were shouting and scrambling. She pressed her ear to the door there at the base of the stairs and listened. Gunfire and shrieking, running feet and shouting. Curious, she heard them cursing in Spanish.

And then one shouted, " _AGENTE!"_

And her heart seared hotly in her chest.

He was ALIVE.

She listened as they scrambled and when it was quiet, she eased open the door in front of her. In front of her, looking down into the dark at the edge of a long bridge, a cultist with a huge scythe was standing there.

Jill moved forward silently. She crept, listening to the fighting occurring in the tower on the other side of the long bridge. The night swirled around her, cool and breezy.

She grabbed the scythe in the unassuming cultist's hand, felt him resist and start to turn, and she kicked him in the hip. He lost the scythe, pinwheeled his arms in horror, and went over the edge of the bridge into the darkness. Gripping the heavy weapon like a lifeline, Jill moved across the bridge.

The cold air tickled her fanny and her legs as she moved. She was nearly across when she heard the sounds beyond the door there. It was the mechanical cry of one of those blind men with claws. She froze and heard it echo.

Not one.

Two.

He was facing TWO of them at once.

She started running toward the doors to help him and two disgusting cockroaches climbed up from the edges of the bridge to stop her. They skittered, hissing their horrid chittering sounds as they awkwardly raced over the cold stone toward her. Jill braced, waited, and the first leaped at her to take her head.

She swung the scythe, caught its slashing hand at the elbow, and cleaved it free in a burst of steaming fluid. It shrieked, the second one dove from the sky to finish the job, and Jill went to her back, swung the scythe up in a fluid motion, and caught it across the chest and belly.

It lodged, it split, it burst and she rolled to miss the streaming spit of acid that flew down to melt her bones. She flicked the scythe with all her strength and the struggling bug was thrown free into the darkness. The other missing the hand took up the charge.

It got her from behind.

It landed on her back, she lost the scythe in a skittering of metal over the stone, and it raised up to impale her on that one surviving claw. Jerking her hips, Jill threw a reverse kick at it from her belly on the ground. The kick hit in the mid back and threw it off center, and Jill rolled, scissored her legs at it and kicked it three times in the face while it reeled.

The bug was thrown against the railing of the bridge as she scrambled, grabbed the scythe from the ground, and spun back as it leaped at her.

The claw caught her shoulder, she gasped as it spilled blood, and she caught it across the face with the blade. It was split and sheared in half. The bug stopped screeching as it went down, twitching and spastically jerking as it died. Jill leaped over its dying form and burst through the doors in front of her.

But there was nothing happening in that long room now.

It was filled with corpses.

She froze, surveying the carnage.

Bodies were everywhere. Missing pieces, missing heads, still smoking or bleeding. The two mechanical men were literally smoking where they lay. Someone had dispatched a fucking RPG into this mess of bodies. Where had he found one?

It didn't matter. He was still ALIVE.

Jill raced amongst the dead, holding the scythe and running. She burst out the other doors and saw him as he was opening the next set of doors across the long bridge that separated them.

She shouted into the cold air, "Leon!"

But the doors closed between them and she was forced to race across toward where he'd been.

She heard him talking as she approached, "If you so much as scratch her, I'll grind your fucking bones into dust."

The laughter was Salazar's, high pitched and amused, "You won't do anything, you stupid hero. I tire of your threats. I tire of YOU. The other girl you seek? She's to be sacrificed to Saddler. For Saddler. Perhaps he will decide instead to use her as a broodmare. Perhaps she will spread her legs and birth his children. How would that suit you, Mr. Kennedy? The President's daughter as our puppet. And your woman as the mother of our new world. You would not be so brave then I think."

She heard him reply, on a heavy laugh, "You sniveling little shit, you tell Saddler if he even looks at Jill, I'm going to shove his head so far up his ass that he has to wear himself as a hat."

"I tire of you, Mr. Kennedy. I tire of you. Just…die."

She heard Ashley shout. She heard the sound of mechanical gears turning. There was a clunk and the whistle of the wind. Ashley screamed, "NO! LEON! OH MY GOD!"

Jill kicked open the door.

In horror, she saw what was happening. The floor was open and Leon had clearly tumbled down into the trap of it. Salazar caught sight of her and laughed, "So! You escaped your caretaker. No matter. You will die now to prove a point."

He nodded at the red-robed figure beside him. His other side was graced with one in black. "Kill her."

Nodding, the red one holding the spear against Ashley's Graham's kneeling throat separated from the other to move toward Jill. She judged it and eased into the room. Salazar was sitting on a little throne-like chair listening to a small metal horn he had beside his ear. What was he waiting for?

And then he said, "Where is the satisfying sound of one's impalement?"

The red-robed figure was nearly to her. It lifted the spear. Jill raised the scythe. And they swung at each other. The weapons struck, shrieking with a cry of clanging metal. The thing was strong, the hit drove her to one knee to just keep from losing her head.

It eyed her boredly. She rose to swing the scythe again and it had had enough of her. It kicked her.

It just…kicked her in the stomach. The hit was so hard it stole her breath. She stumbled. She turned, and it kicked her in the back. She lost the scythe, she tried to grab on, Ashley screamed in horror, and she went over.

She went over.

She was terrified of falling to her death.

And she plummeted into the waiting dark with a cry of horror as it kicked into the abyss.

The scythe went first. It twirled and flipped and disappeared into the dark. Jill went so fast she felt the wind rush and roar and she couldn't do anything but fall. In one hand, it sucked shit. What a fucking way to die. In the other, if Leon was already dead at the bottom at least she wasn't going to die alone.

The world was dark and cold. The wind was fast and breathtaking. She tried to grab slick wet stone and missed. She spun left, swirled right, hit the wall twice and her head struck. The dark grabbed her and stole the fear. She went out without another thought.

Dangling in the dark, Leon Kennedy was somewhat rappelling on the wall of the pit where she'd been tossed. He heard Salazar up there giggling and decided enough was enough of that little shit. Pulling his pistol, Leon aimed happily at the tiny belly dangling on the wall. Clearly, it was meant to alert the person above to the satisfying crunch of bodies on the horrible spikes at the bottom of the pit.

There was the stench of old blood and rotting meat down there. Which meant plenty had plummeted and died before in the dark. It would not be him that joined them, though, clearly. So, instead, he shot the bell and heard Salazar shriek in anger.

And then? Then he heard Ashley scream in horror, "NOOO! JILL!"

And all the bravado in the world couldn't stop the horror.

Jill.

Where was Jill?

Up there? Up there with Salazar and those things? Up there….fighting alone?

The world rushed. He heard the sound of falling. And the horror became terror. Because he KNEW she wasn't up there. She was ON HER WAY DOWN.

He heard her cry out, heard the clunk of hitting, and watched the dark split as she came toward him – out, gone, and tumbling. Pushing against the wall, he shot off like some kind of Cirque du Soleil carnival act or something. He swung around the circular stone pit, running against the walls and using his own momentum to brace for her.

She tumbled and landed. He caught her around his front with a grunt. The rappel line shivered with the added weight but held. Jill was collapsed against his body with her head on his shoulder and her legs open around his waist.

Based on what she WASN'T wearing anymore, it should have been an exciting moment. Owing to the fact they were currently dangling over a spike-filled pit, the sexiness was lost. Big time. But the continuous thunder of his heart couldn't be discounted. Because he'd caught her.

He'd CAUGHT her.

And that was enough.

For now, it was enough.

He started rappelling down the wall, holding her against his body with nothing more than her own dead weight and the mechanics of wall leaning. She murmured and shifted as they were about halfway down. The relief of knowing she'd hit but was coming around quickly had him nearly pissing himself with renewed hope.

"Jill?"

She made a small sound and curled. Her legs shifted and hooked. Her dead weight converted to clinging. She opened her sleepy mouth against his neck and licked.

Blinking in the dark as she kept slowly hopping them down the wall, Leon chuckled a little. "Jillian? Honey. You may wanna wake up. As much as I enjoy the licking and suckling," And he DID. His body said…yep yep yep. He couldn't think of a worse time for it to happen. "The timing is probably bad here, sweetheart. Can you wake up for me?"

She shifted a little. Her big eyes opened. The braided hairstyle on her was all kinds of fucking sexy. It was renaissance chic hair or something. He liked it. The thing she wasn't wearing…the robe or the slutty nightgown…or the torture device they'd dressed her in…he liked that too. And hated it. And loved it. Because she was riding his body down a wall right now. And he was pretty sure they'd taken her panties.

She had on no panties and was sitting on his lap while he hopped slowly down an incline. Each hop had her bouncing on his shit. It was amusing, awful, wonderful, and comically awesome all at once. Laughing hoarsely, he said, "Wake up, sweetheart. Just a little. Wake up."

She blinked at him. And she smiled, so softly, "You're alive."

"So it would appear."

"….you caught me."

He grinned a little, "So, that would appear as well."

She shifted, and her body clung to him now in a helpful way. She just helped make it easier for him to move down the wall now. He watched intelligence pierce the sleepy look on her face. She rolled over on him, which….maybe wasn't the fucking best move either as it pressed her little butt against his groin instead, but she grabbed the line with him and started helping…so it took the pressure off his arms and back to move them both.

And she said, "You're ok?"

Grunting a little as her butt wiggled with each hop down the wall, he laughed slightly, "I'm ok. You're ok?"

"Yeah. They meant to sacrifice me."

"I heard."

"But they're stupid, Leon. Or unskilled. Or something."

"Lucky for us." They hopped, her naked little butt rubbed against him again, and he figured he had to say it here for both of them. "They had to dress you in a porno robe?"

Amused, she glanced over her shoulder, "You don't like it?"

And now he laughed again, "Oh, I like it. I like it a lot. I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to focus on a damn thing but your ass right now…but I like it."

With a soft chuckle, Jill wiggled a little more with each hop.

He had to be impressed. As an enemy, she was obliterating him. Grunting, Leon mused, "Tease."

And had her laughing softly as they hit the bottom of the wall and leaped clean.

The spikes were huge, human size, and taking over the entire lower quadrant of the pit. There were dead cultists staked on them. There were dead bodies everywhere. Clearly, Salazar punished the misbehaving souls in his unfortunate puppet show by tossing them into the abyss to die like shishkabobs.

His communicator signaled and Leon answered it. Salazar's ugly little face echoed back at him. "You have nine lives, Mr. Kennedy."

"Isn't that interesting, Salazar. Considering the only pussy here is you."

Salazar laughed, high and happy. "Keep joking, you fool. No matter. I've sent my right hand to dispose of you."

"A shame for you, really, good luck wiping your ass with the left one."

"Keep joking, you fool. We'll see who has the last laugh."

He signed off and Leon rolled his eyes.

He turned to look at Jill in the dull flicker of moist light. The wet cavernous room was disgusting and moldy. It stank and was filled with rotting bodies and stagnant water.

Ignoring the bodies impaled and the horror of the stench of old blood and mold, Leon tilted her face up to him to inspect the knot on the side of her head. It was a good egg size lump above her left temple. It was oozing and swollen. He prodded it gently and Jill hissed.

"Easy, cheesy. Seriously." She grunted with the pain of it.

"Sorry. You're ok?"

"Been better." She glanced at his face in the dim light of the wet cavern in which they found themselves, "But we're both alive. So, it's a start."

His eyes dropped down and back up. And he shook his head on a small laugh. "This outfit you're barely wearing…seriously? It's a test from God. Clearly."

Jill chuckled softly and shifted a little closer to him. She opened her mouth to say something clever and cute and there was a sound from the pit above them. It was the sound of something leaping.

It echoed on his face and across hers: fear.

Leon mused, "Yeah. Which one did he send? Black or red?"

"Does it matter?"

"Nope. Let's move." They did. Quickly.

They hurried through the door at the edge of the pit of spikes and emerged into some kind of a tunnel that reminded Jill of a subway station. It was steel grates and the chugging sound of steam and machinery working in the distance. It was long hallways with warning signs in Spanish along the walls as they moved.

And they moved quickly.

Containers of nitrous oxide were connected to tubing along the walls as they ran. Curious, Jill wondered what could possibly be down here that required freezing to that extent. Most likely, it was specimen containment of some kind. Cold fusion was a little extreme unless you were trying to disable detonation devices quickly.

The first off chute on the tunnel spilled them into a room with nothing but two tanks of the stuff hooked to the heavy tubing and bound to the walls. It was an empty chamber otherwise and a dead end. Concerned, Leon turned to face her. "You're weaponless?"

She hefted the scythe she'd found in the water they'd left behind. "Not entirely."

"….shit." He tugged the pistol from his thigh and offered it to her. They traded for the scythe. Leon swung it easily and Jill had one of those moments again where she was impressed with the skill of it. It was effortless for him. He just KNEW how to swing it.

They moved back into the hallway and veered down the other tunnel. Jill kept the pistol ready but loose as they hurried. This one opened into a narrow chamber split by a wire fence and a console that offered controls for an elevator. A quick check showed the power was out to it.

Jill said, "Of course. OF COURSE."

"Right? Let's find the breaker."

"Sure. Cause it will be that easy."

He laughed a little as they moved back into the hallway and split down the last corner to cover the final door, count it off, and clear into the last room. It was a U-shaped corridor that curved sharply and offered the heavy breaker hanging on the wall. It had been tripped by circuit overload. It was flashing a yellow rebooting warning at them.

Leon grabbed the handle, pushed it up, and reset the circuit. It hissed, popped, crackled and announced through the room: "Breaker engaged. Rerouting power. Standby for lock release."

Jill watched a shutter drop on the room they were in, sealing them together in the U-shaped metal area. A light flashed on the door, signaling power rerouting to the electronic lock. It announced again, in that snooty British accent that bad guys loved on their systems: "Four minutes to power reinstitution. Please stand by."

Four minutes.

Easy enough to kill four minutes.

The room was flashing red and white while the warning lights on the wall above them rotated like police sirens in silence but continuous spilling color.

Jill queried, "Know any good jokes? Maybe a poem? Or a dirty limerick?"

"You want to tell jokes while we wait for the thing that's chasing us to catch up while trapped in a flashing room together at the bottom of a pit of spikes that was meant to impale and kill us while psychos are chasing us, trying to sacrifice you and simultaneously trying to take over the US through bioterrorism using fungus found in caves beneath a castle in the middle of nowhere?"

Jill glanced at him behind her and laughed.

They both did.

What else could you do?

It sounded so stupid to say it out loud. Like the plot of a bad science fiction movie (*cough*). Who could possibly believe something so obscure? Ridiculous. Insane. When was the last time something hadn't been in their world?

Hadn't it all started by coming face to face with the undead?

It was a comic book. Or a video game. Or a cosmic joke. What else could you do but laugh and deal with it? Survive. That was the bottom line here. Did it matter how they managed to do that? If it meant laughing at the utter nonsense of it all, who could really blame them?

And so, Jill Valentine intoned, chuckling, "You got a better idea?"

Snorting a little, Leon quipped, "Ok. Sure. Let's do this thing. Uh…there once was a man from Napass…who's balls were made out of brass. And in stormy weather, they clanked together, and lightning shot out of his ass."

Jill, holding the pistol on the closed door with the shutter down, glanced over her shoulder at him. He was grinning so big and proud. She couldn't do anything but love him.

But she kept her face deadpan, "That was awful. Try again."

"Can't do it. I'm all out of limericks."

"Shame. You have some rhyming skill. You wanna try a bad pun?" She grinned while she said it, watching the red and white flicker over the door.

"Nah. I'm all punned out."

"The hell you say," Feigning horror, Jill put a hand to her breasts and looked aghast, "Woe becomes us when Leon Kennedy can't pun. If we can't joke, what's left to do?"

"This."

She turned with a grin and stopped grinning. Because he wasn't holding the scythe. His hand went right up under her sacrificial robe, slid over her ass and he turned her into him. She went, making a small sound of want, and the gun bumped on his back as they came together.

They kissed wet and fast. It was hungry and sharp. It was so ill-timed. Wasn't their entire relationship ill-timed? He pressed her into the wall and tried to eat her.

His hands were full of her ass, kneading, sculpting. She whimpered, undone. He angled her against him and plunged his tongue into her as the lights rolled and flickered; as the announcement told them two minutes until power was redistributed.

She figured she should stop him. She didn't want to stop him. She didn't want to do anything but this. Exactly. It was all she'd wanted from the moment she'd met him. This. Him. Denying it was making them both nuts. It was groping on a gondola in the cold and flirting and burning and dying. It didn't matter. He was infected, they were essentially lost and forsaken and probably dead. And it DIDN'T MATTER.

This did.

The kiss broke and Jill, the woman who never faltered on a mission, who never flirted, who never broke protocols or rules or barriers. Who towed the line and kept her distance and didn't regret, was tired of doing it. She was tired of simply making excuses why it wasn't ok to want him. To want this. To want to touch and taste and feel him.

She just wanted him. And it was echoed all over his face as he touched her.

She breathed, "Leon?"

His mouth was on her throat. Her breathing was ragged. His was hoarse.

She was dying.

Face flushed, panting, he leaned back a little. "I know…I know. Bad timing. Fuck. A minute here. Just..."

He took his hands off her and planted them flat on the wall beside her head. He rubbed their foreheads together and the torture of it on his face made her insane for him. Shaking her head, Jill cupped his face. His eyes were closed as he breathed.

Jill was trembling. She was trembling. She was shaking.

She would have stopped, maybe, but she realized in a single flash of intuition…that he was shaking too. And she didn't want to stop. She didn't want to stop anymore.

Not anymore.

They had two minutes until the door opened. They were probably dead where they stood. They were being chased and fighting for their life and lost and starving and cold and alone. They were fucked.

And that's what she wanted.

She wanted to get fucked.

And it was nothing like her. Nothing. It was insane. And she was insane.

And she felt ALIVE with it.

Breathing sharp and fast, she dropped her hand. She jerked at his zipper. His eyes flew open and he started to pull back. Shaking her head, Jill lodged her other hand on his face and held him to her. She didn't say a word, she just shook her head.

They didn't need words. Not in that second. No words. He was ready. She found him slick and ready and hot. He made a sound as she touched him. He made a small sound of need. And she nodded. She nodded.

She tilted her mouth to his and said, "Hurry. Please. Hurry."

Jesus Christ.

His eyes volleyed over her face. It was so wrong.

It was so wrong.

It didn't matter.

He wanted to fuck her so badly it was nearly PAINFUL. He was hurting. His goddamn bones hurt from it.

He breathed, harsh, "Jill..."

"Leon...now. Please. Please."

Jesus.

He should stop. They should stop.

His heart was hammering so hard.

He knew he wasn't going to stop.

He ducked and his hands gripped the backs of her thighs. Jill made a little cry he lifted her. Her hands shifted and grabbed his face. The wall hit her back and was cold. But he wasn't cold.

She wasn't cold.

She was dying. The thing in him raised his body temperature anyway. But the need between them was insane. It burned. It needed an outlet. It needed a way out.

Jill grabbed twin handfuls of his hair, Leon shoved her against the wall and stole her breath, and she gasped, "Now."

His blood HURT. He was so hot. She was so hot.

He needed her.

He echoed it, gravelly and low, "Now."

She was so wet against the throbbing length of him. Wet. Now.

It was wrong.

It was so right it was hurting them.

The silky little nothing she wore shifted around her thighs, she jerked his head back to take his mouth, and he plunged into her waiting body in a single hard thrust. It echoed, loud and sharp, it caught like wildfire as her body absorbed and swallowed him. She closed around him like a wet fist and he didn't wait, he took her mewling cry into his mouth, and surged into her so thick and fast it robbed sounds of need from both of them.

She was ready for him. More then. Engorged, slick, hot – her body begged even as it offered. It took each hammering thrust of him into the milking heat of the culmination of their greed for each other. He cursed, she cried out sharp and high, and the slapping thunder of flesh filled the flickering room. She surged against him, demanding, commanding - taking even as she offered.

It was his pants still hanging around his hips and the thing she wore hiked up her thighs. It was dirty and raw and so fast and consuming it left nothing but flesh and fucking and feral need. And it didn't last long. It couldn't. Even as the announcement told them they had thirty seconds left until the power rerouted, she came apart around his thrusting body.

Her thighs clenched, her body bowed, her cry was swallowed by his raping tongue and he rode her through the wet burst of her orgasm. She humped as she came, gasping, her strong thighs riding and rising against his plunging body. Her fisting hands drove his mouth harder into hers as he answered the need of it, he grunted, she gasped, and he plowed into her so hard it drove a cry from them both as he dumped his greed for her into her spasming heat.

Her body swallowed the spurting need of him like she was born for it.

He was shaking. She was quaking and clenching around him. They clung to each other, sweaty and spasming.

And the announcement told them the power had been successfully rerouted.

The door buzzed loudly and opened with a mechanical hiss of locks releasing and shutter rising.

Her legs slid down his. Her hand shot between her legs to cup and feel the slick evidence of their coupling there and he zipped himself up. It was…it was…it was the single most gratifying two minutes of her entire life.

Flushed, they looked at each other with hooded eyes while they panted.

The shame of forcing him into it spilled from her in a small sound of horror. Jill breathed, gently, "….I'm so sorry."

His hand shot out and grabbed her face. He dragged her forward and kissed her, wet and slick and deep. She moaned into his mouth and curved into his body. He let her go after a long moment and his answer was low, gruff, and hard. "No sorry. Ever. I look sorry to you?"

"No..."

"Yeah. No sorry. Stay with me, Jill. Now."

His hand slid over hers where it pressed between her legs. They both touched the slick wet of their joining. It was possessive. For both of them. They both watched it echoed in the other's face.

"Yeah," He breathed it, sharp, "No sorry. Ever. You hear me?"

Jill nodded, fast. Her skin was throbbing for him. "I hear you. I l—"

His eyes shifted, just a little, just a bit…over her right shoulder.

She saw the horror on his face. She turned and saw the reason.

It was one of the things alright. But it wasn't in a robe. It wasn't dressed at all. And it wasn't human. It didn't even try to be.

It was eight feet tall. It was a naked skull with glowing red eyes and exposed bone and claws. It had a whipping tail made of sharp black bone and razor taloned death. The exposed ribcage seemed so frail and empty without muscle or sinew or skin. The legs and the feet were almost avian in nature, offering a nearly delicate way of walking for something so big and horrible and terrifying.

It didn't wait. It rushed them.

Jill dropped as the tail whipped over their heads. Leon threw himself back into a beautiful flip and the tail slapped at the empty air where he'd been. Jill rolled right and broke into a run.

She turned as Leon swung the scythe at it.

And the goddamn blade hit it, shrieked in protest, and glanced off the skeletal form with a clang and spark of metal on metal.

METAL.

Was the goddamn thing impenetrable?

Leon must have had the same thought because he rushed, dropped the scythe, and slid between its bowed legs. It was a power slide. It was kinda brilliant and pretty beautiful to see. It was like he was stealing home or something.

He caught her as he came out of the slide and grabbed her hand.

They ran for the open door together, no hesitation.

The steel grate clanged beneath their feet as they ran. They raced together for the room with the elevator. They could hear it chasing them. It was SO FAST. They'd never make it.

Leon turned and jumped. Concerned, Jill skidded to a stop. But he was kicking the connection of one of the canisters on the wall. He was kicking it….so it would spill on the ground….and make the metal monster BRITTLE.

Jill had that moment again. That slap of surprise.

And her brain tossed a brief memory to her. A lunch with Chris where they'd been discussing him.

" _He's practically a genius."_

" _You're kidding right?"_

" _No. Serious. He's fucking brilliant. You couldn't tell talking to the guy, for real, he acts like a doofus with as much common sense as a toddler…but he's known for his improvisation."_

And she'd seen it.

More than once.

He gave one final kick to the canister and leaped down. Jill offered him the pistol but he shook his head and swung the shotgun from his back. She backed up, the thing came charging, and the canister hit the floor.

The pressure sent it spinning madly. It spilled as it spun, throwing freezing gas around it. It hit the walls and the floor…and the thing that raced across the freezing burst toward them. It was instantly frozen. It stopped, blinking those flashing red eyes, and it was stuck there – as if someone had hit pause on the great remote control of the universe.

Leon mused, "Yeah. Bigger doesn't mean better you mother fucker."

He shot it until the shotgun clicked empty. Jill echoed him with the handgun. It screamed. It WORKED. Because each bullet struck and blew pieces of it away.

But it wasn't going to die that easily.

It started shaking.

Leon backed up, reloading. He said, "Run Jill. To the elevator."

"I won't leave you."

"I said RUN JILL! NOW!"

She ran.

She ran while he stayed behind and started shooting it.

She ran because she knew there was another fucking container in the room before the elevator. She veered into the room and ran for the container on the left. Grabbing it, Jill started jerking.

The door burst open and Leon didn't come through it.

Not him.

The nasty monster.

It ran at her, she jerked the cannister free, and threw it down. And it was hit with the full blast of gas as the canister burst and throw freezing tendrils all around them. It nearly got her as she stumbled back and into the far wall.

She shot it full of rounds while it stood there, blinking uselessly at her.

When she was empty, she turned and ran from the room. She ran while her heart pounded. She looked for Leon and found no one. She looked for a body and saw nothing.

So she kept on running.

Her feet carried her into the room with the elevator. She grabbed the first cannister on the wall and jerked, jerked, jerked. The thing burst into the room with her, shrieking, and the canister came free to throw gas everywhere. It was halted in mid-shriek. Its claw was an INCH from her nose.

Horrified, Jill hit the floor on her butt, gasping.

She crab scrambled back, looking for anything to fight it while it was frozen.

And it was starting to unthaw.

She was FUCKED.

Its arm was thawed out enough to raise for the killing blow. It went above its flashing red eyes and swung down to end her. And it stopped.

It halted.

It halted like someone had flicked a switch.

She heard the meaty THWACK of noise. She heard the brittle tinkle of musical ice in a glass. And she watched from the floor as the scythe blade BURST through the frozen body in a perfect arch. It bisected the thing across the middle, separating it into two perfect pieces. As they fell, the scythe came down again and obliterated the red eyes and naked skull.

Leon hacked it to pieces while it stared, uselessly, frozen where it lay – decimated.

The silence was so loud when he finished.

And then the elevator behind Jill beeped and opened, offering them the way out.

The pieces of the dead monster were smoking and still around them. Leon, gripping the scythe in one sweaty palm, offered her the other. Jill took it, silent, and he helped her to her feet.

She breathed, "You said to leave you."

He held her look, panting from the exertion of hacking their opponent to death. "Yeah. I needed it to chase you. So I could get this goddamn thing and finish it."

Jill nodded. She nodded twice more.

She nodded and realized she was breathing too fast.

She was panicking a little. Which was interesting.

And unlike her.

She'd never really been her self since she'd met him. Not really. He was stealing the pieces of her and hacking them away while she waited, frozen, brittle …for him to end her.

She'd just fucked Leon Kennedy against the dirty wall in this god forsaken hell hole.

Who was she?

Her eyes turned up to his face again. He was watching her, so quietly. What was in his head? What was on his face? He looked so calm. He looked so perfect. His face, that hair, his eyes…who was he really? And why was she so wrapped up in him?

She'd just fucked Leon Kennedy against a dirty wall in the middle of the greatest fight of their lives. Who was she!?

Leon said, gently, "Are you ok? I saw you on your ass when I came in here and nearly shit myself with fear."

Jill breathed, "….I'm ok. I think I'm ok."

"You think?"

She turned toward him. Her hand caught the scythe and shook it free. He dropped it with a clang to the steel beneath them and caught her against him. They kissed like they'd been dying for it.

Who were they!?

She didn't know.

He didn't either.

It didn't matter anymore.

They were here. They were together. They were alive.

And they were crazy for each other.

However it ended, that part remained true. Maybe the only truth they had. Jill tried to feel regret or upset or anything about fucking Leon Kennedy against the wall in a dirty hell hole…she tried to feel anything but thrilled about it.

And she couldn't. She wanted to do it again.

Whoever she was, she was the girl in love with Leon Kennedy. And maybe that ended with her dead in a hell hole impaled on spikes. Or sacrificed to perverted gods by psychos. Or lost in the dark to be eaten by killer bugs. Maybe it did.

But it had him in it.

And all she knew was that she'd rather be here, with him, lost in the dark…then safe somewhere out there in the world without him.

Who were they?

They were the former heroes of Raccoon City. They were survivors. They were two people just trying to get by. Two people just trying to remember why they were fighting and what they were fighting for. Two people who were trying so hard to just keep going. And they'd taken two minutes from that fight to touch each other, to taste each other, and LOVE.

They were going to get out of this mess. They were going to get out and go on and figure out what was happening between them. They were going to stay ALIVE.

And they were going to do it…together.


	14. Chapter 14

**XIII: Temptation and Two Fatties**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

The silence on the elevator was loud.

If that was somehow possible, the silence was pregnant.

Was she?

Jill breathed heavily in the fetid and humid air. Was it possible? She wasn't on birth control. He hadn't used anything. Well, he'd used something alright. But not protection. He'd just used her.

She considered that feeling as the elevator took them away from the room where they body of the right hand of Salazar remained in pieces. Did she feel like he'd used her?

No.

She just…didn't.

And yet…the heat of it had burnt away on a tidal wave of something else. What was that? It pulsed around them. It was regret or something. It was painful. What was it?

She glanced at his sweaty face in the red light.

It was guilt.

It was all over him.

Was it all over her?

Somewhere, Ashley was waiting for them. She was trapped and afraid. And they were fucking in the dark like feral animals. It was guilt.

The elevator kept lowering them into the bowels of whatever cavern they'd found themselves in. The smell, the sounds…it said mines. There were mines beneath the castle. Why? And what was down here for them to discover?

Jill watched his face as the elevator descended. There was something in that face of his that scared her a little. It was him but it wasn't. It was something.

She queried, softly, "How are you feeling?"

His eyes rolled to her face and lingered. He looked a little ragged around the edges. Didn't they both? When had they slept last? Ate? Taken a piss? God.

He answered, quietly, "A little odd, to be honest. Light headed? Something. You ok?"

"I'm peachy." Jill eased a little closer to him. It shimmered between them, what had happened, and it punctuated what should have been a simple enough movement. But whatever was inside of him was kind of…tracking her or something. She could see the flicker of it behind his eyes.

It was unnerving.

She reached for the cargo pocket on his left leg. The zipper gave with a metallic sigh and she started rooting around for the suppression pills that Sera had given them. The little outfit she wasn't really wearing was shifting in the humidity as she moved.

He could see the impressions of her nipples against the silky white. She found the little bottle at the same time he found the tie of her robe. It gave, her head came up, and his body moved. She started to protest and he pressed her into the wall of the elevator.

The robe gaped, dangling, as he filled his hands with her breasts and the silky nightgown that waited to block him. Jill gasped; the bottle of pills in her hand was forgotten as her hands caught his face. He stroked her, stoked her, and kissed her like he'd melt her. It was so hot in the elevator.

Wherever they were headed it was so humid. It wavered in the air like a shimmery curtain. Sweaty, she could taste the salt on him as they kissed. His palms stroked her breasts through the nightgown until she was breathless and peaked in his palms.

Their mouths broke when they couldn't breathe anymore and the elevator bumped to their final stop. The door chugged open and they were alone in a small room a few torches. Jill's voice was hoarse as she whispered, "We..this…this isn't entirely you here. We should stop."

He said nothing. She started to pull away and he held her against the wall. His hands shifted. He spilled the robe off her in a whisper of silk. It left her in practically nothing. She made a small sound. Her belly quivered, "Leon…we can't…Ashley is..she's…waiting…"

What was she saying?

Her head was swimming.

His hands were everywhere. They were on the little sleeves of the nightgown. They were tugging and smoothing. It was that madness again. It was all around them. It was so obscure. How was it making them insane?

Hadn't it been making them insane from the moment they'd met?

She'd never felt anything like she felt for him. She was full of him. She felt like she couldn't breathe without him. It was painful. She wasn't Jill Valentine when he was this close to her. Who was she? She was his. It was all she knew.

His mouth shifted and hers rose to meet the plummet of it. Her supple skin was slick with sweat where he touched. She dropped the little bottle of pills and thrust her hands under his vest to touch him over his sweaty shirt. She wanted to drown in him.

She'd wanted that the moment she'd touched him that first time.

His brain was literally burning. It was burning for her. He couldn't do anything but crave her. He couldn't remember what they were doing here.

What was happening?

He didn't care.

He wanted to SEE her.

It was all he knew.

The nightgown pooled on the floor with a whisper of silk. She was naked in the shimmering heat and he didn't care anymore about bioterror or viruses or missions or the world. He only cared about her. She was all he knew. Where they were, what they were, how or who or when…none of it mattered. He had to have her. He had to keep having her until it killed them both.

The room beyond was nothing but torches and two doors. It was exposed and dangerous. He should clear the room. He should clear each door beyond the room. He should find the SUBJECT he'd come here to save. He should do his goddamn job.

He couldn't keep his hands off her.

And he didn't know what his fucking job was anymore.

His brain was burning.

Jill tried so hard to hold on to the last vestiges of what was right here. She tried one more time to stop them. To do the right thing. She tried once more. Her voice quavered, "Don't stop."

So, that wasn't exactly what she'd meant to say.

But it was truth.

He nipped her throat, thumbs stroking her breasts, and breathed against her skin, "I can't stop."

And she knew the feeling. It boiled in her for him.

Lost, she breathed, "Oh god."

His hands were all over her. She was naked and sweaty in a boiling elevator while he consumed her. The heat wasn't the room, it was him. It was always him. It was them.

And this.

And HIM.

His mouth was amorous. It was determined. It was all over her. She was shaking, quaking. Her hands lifted and found the linked steel of the elevator above her head. She held on while he savaged her with the want of it.

She watched him touch her. She watched him taste her. His tongue, his teeth, the glide of his lips and hands. He was fucking beautiful. He was slick skin and heavy lids and long dark lashes. And need.

NEED.

It rolled between them so hot and thick that they were both choking on it.

He breathed her name and stole her soul.

He was hungry for her. And that was all he had.

He stole her breath and put his mouth on hers and she didn't care anymore about trying to be her. She just let him over take her. She let the need spill over them both. She didn't care about anything but him. His hands filled with breasts, his mouth filled with her flavor, and she came against his delving tongue so fast it nearly ripped her apart with the speed of it.

She was in the shimmering heat with Leon Kennedy's tongue in her mouth. Who was she!? The question remained the constant plague of them. Of this. Of the thing that was between them.

His communicator beeped as she came against his relentless assault, sucking on his tongue while he killed her. The horror of Salazar buzzing in to see them in the throws of this obsessive greed for each other tossed ice water on her. She grabbed his hair, twisted her fingers in it, and jerked his face from hers.

Shaking, Jill gasped, "WAIT! Wait wait wait…look at me…"

And he did.

But he wasn't really him.

His eyes?

RED.

She made a small sound of fear. "Leon?"

And he was.

But he wasn't.

The emptiness on his face didn't match the fire in the room around them as he put his hands around her throat. She tried to pull away and he started squeezing. His communicator signaled again.

Jill felt the air seize in her lungs.

And the horror spilled fast into the need, hit the greed of wanting him, and obliterated it with terror. She fought but he was strong. Stronger then he should have been. He choked her effortlessly and lifted. He lifted her off the ground so she dangled, naked, while he killed her.

He'd fucked her once with his fingers, once with his body…and now? He was going to fuck her one last time. She wanted to get fucked after all.

She was fucked now.

Her body bowed, her hands slapped. She slapped at him, gasping, grunting. She grabbed his hair and jerked. She fought, desperate and dying. He smashed her into the steel grate so hard it had her vision going gray.

The thing in him was trying to kill her.

What was it?

Plagas.

He was turning into one of them.

She was betting the fucking, the adrenaline, the excitement was exacerbating things. Wanting her was, literally, killing them both.

He was going to love her to death.

And she kicked him in the groin for it.

Her foot came up and landed. It wasn't easy. It was so hard it echoed. It hurt the arch of her foot to do it. It hurt her heart to do it. But she couldn't dangle and let him choke her to death.

He released her with a grunt of pain.

Jill tumbled, she rolled as she fell, and naked or not – she was still Jill Valentine. She rolled and kicked him twice in the chest as she did. He was thrown back in the elevator; Jill grabbed the big knife off the front of his vest as he did, and jerked it clean.

She was ready when he rushed her. She braced, turned her body into him, grabbed his vest and rolled to her back on the floor. She threw him out and came back to her feet as he flew.

Leon rolled through the landing and spun back on her.

Jesus.

The plagas had just inherited a fucking warrior.

It was bad.

It was all REALLY bad.

The shotgun was abandoned on the floor between them. She left it. She didn't want to kill him. Not if she could avoid it. Surely he was still in there.

She tried, gently, and her voice was hoarse with pain from her injured throat, "Stop. It's me. Leon? It's ME."

He rushed her. She braced again, dropped low as he reached her, and foot swept him. He went down; she straddled him, and put the knife to his eye.

"STOP! Stay down! Do you hear me?"

He grabbed for her throat like he didn't hear her at all.

And Jill cut him.

It nearly killed her to do it. But she cut him his outer forearm as he grabbed for her. The blood welled red and immediate. She braced to kill him and saw the moment the red of his eyes bled blue again.

He gasped, the pain put him back in his body, and Jill rolled off him.

She kept the knife.

She grabbed the bottle of pills off the floor and threw them at him.

The plunked against his chest as he rose to his knees on the floor.

Voice hoarse and cold, she intoned, "Take one. NOW."

Leon put his hands out to show himself unarmed. He divested himself of his pistol, tossing it away, "It's me. Ok? It's me."

"Take the fucking pill. Now."

Jill eased over and grabbed the gun. She kept the knife in one hand and the gun in the other. And she aimed it at him.

The move wasn't lost on either of them.

He took the pill, no questions asked. They faced each other in the steamy heat. Naked, she was somehow more formidable now then he'd ever seen her. There was no softness on her face. No sweetness. No attraction to him. She might as well have been wearing a battle suit for all the difference it made for her to be nude now.

After a long moment, Jill eased back toward the elevator. She closed the elevator guard between them and dressed. It broke his fucking heart to watch her do it. She kept the pistol in her hand and on him as she dressed.

Jesus.

He spoke, still on his knees, he hadn't moved a muscle. His hands were still out to his sides, harmless. Right.

He breathed, "I'm sorry."

She opened the steel guard and stepped off the elevator. She was belted into the little outfit again. She shook her head at him, holding the gun on him. "Not your fault. But I'm not going to stand there and let you kill me either. Get up, slowly."

He did, watching her. He said, "The pill is working. It's just me. No swimming in my head. No confusion. Just me."

Her eyes swiftly shifted over his features. And he added, gently, "It was me before. In the elevator. That was me too, Jill. I put my mouth on you and something shifted in me. I don't know what the hell is happening. I would never hurt you."

He started to move a little toward her and she jerked the gun up to his face.

Jesus.

He backed off, hands up.

She whispered, "I know that. But the thing in you would hurt me. It did. It's intense feeling that perpetuates the infection rate, clearly. Which means I need to get away from you."

Leon shook his head, "Don't. DON'T. That's not how we do this. Now that I know…that WE know…I won't fucking touch you again, I swear to god. You think I'd risk you to get my rocks off? You think I'd risk you for anything?"

The pain on him was hurting her too. He was ashamed. He was horrified.

And she was afraid of him.

It made her a little ashamed to admit it.

She was afraid of the thing inside of him.

Shaking her head, she backed up to the first of the two doors. "I can't stay with you. Not now. I'm sorry. You take that door, I'll go this way. I need some space. I need some perspective. I can't keep fucking you in dirty rooms and having you try to kill me while that girl waits for us to save her. I can't keep doing this. Stay away from me. You hear me? I mean it."

That killed him.

It hurt so bad. It was like being kicked in the dick.

Which…had just happened anyway.

And he kinda deserved both.

He tried again, low and determined, "I won't hurt you, Jill. It's just me now. I swear to god."

"…I don't believe you. I can't. I'm sorry. But the thing in you is a liar. It's a killer. We need it out. And I'm afraid of you."

Her voice broke. Her eyes teared.

He shook his head, undone. Broken. He took a step toward her. She threw the knife across the floor with a skitter of metal. But she kept his gun on him.

"Take it. And the shotgun. Take them both. I need a little time. Stay away from me. Please." Her hand gripped the door handle behind her. She pushed it open and felt the first tear squeeze down her cheek, "I'm sorry. I am. I love you."

And she escaped into the room beyond.

Leon stood with the wet of his own blood dripping to the floor. The cut on his arm was shallow but long. It curled from elbow to glove. His hands curled into fists.

She had bruises all over her throat. He'd choked the shit out of her.

His mind said: YOU didn't. The parasite did.

The shame didn't care.

It still raped him raw. He put his face in his hands and cursed with rage.

Leon grabbed the shotgun from the floor. He looped it over his back. He ripped off a piece of shirt and bound his bloody arm and grabbed his knife from the floor. The blade was wet with red. She'd cut him with his own fucking knife.

The symbolism wasn't lost on him there either.

He opened the opposite door and cleared through it into a big chamber. It was so humid in the room that he understood the cast off heat in the other chamber was just a HINT of what waited. This room was BOILING. It was like a wet slap of fire on the flesh as she you walked.

The room was circular and had a big metal circle in the floor that appeared to be a set of doors or something. Probably some kind of trash disposal system, Leon mused, as he moved over the steel grated floor and caught a glimpse of what waited beneath.

Disposal indeed.

He murmured, "Molten lava. Awesome. Tried to kill your girlfriend, got kicked in the balls, and now you'll get burned alive. A red letter fucking day. Thanksgiving with Leon Kennedy."

Girlfriend.

Was she?

He snorted a little. If she had been, she wasn't anymore. Choking the shit out of a girl tended to end a budding relationship.

He glanced at the weird platform on the side of the room. A ladder climbed the rickety structure and offered a pulley of some kind. He figured it was a way of maneuvering objects over the lava pit for destruction. A lever waited on the ground beside him. So one person put the object on the pullet, the other pulled the lever, and it was dragged over the pit and disposed. Most likely.

What a way to go.

The far doors were floor to ceiling. He was almost to them and a grind of gears turned his eye. He was no longer alone in the room. Two of those el gigante trolls were tromping into the small chamber with him.

Two.

TWO.

Leon laughed. He just laughed. What else could you do in a moment like that?

They started roaring and shaking the rafters as they clomped and stomped toward him. A wild hair up the ass had him running for the ladder. He rose swiftly while they angled toward him. He watched them shamble and head toward the rickety platform.

At the top, he grabbed the pulley that waited, jumped off the platform as one of the trolls smashed a fist into it and had it reeling, and was zipped toward through the air toward the other side. It was fun. Like swinging on a rope over the water.

Only this was…lava. Molten lava and giant crushing monsters.

So, maybe, not EXACTLY like a rope swing over a babbling brook.

Maybe more like a rope swing over the seventh pit of hell.

As it came to a stop, Leon let go and it threw him forward. He rolled, came to his feet, and grabbed the lever that waited. He turned to watch the fatties coming toward him. As they lined up over the steel gate, he considered it and tugged the lever.

The floor opened with a rusty peel of metal and the first troll was instantly sucked into the somehow beautiful spill of glistening lava that was revealed. It was sucked into the molten wet, screaming as it burned and was obliterated. The other was a littler smarter. It staggered and started to fall but righted itself and managed to avoid death.

The doors sealed shut and the lever flashed a warning at him.

Ten minutes to recharge.

Of course.

His life was a series of minutes.

He'd had the best two minutes of his life recently. He'd finally touched her, tasted her, buried himself inside of her and wanted to die…just in two minutes. Followed by the worst five minutes in history while he stood there strangling her.

And now it was ten minutes to stay alive versus the mountain that was coming across the floor toward him.

He was tired of living by the minute.

He lifted the shotgun and fired it until it was empty. He unloaded it in that roaring face. The troll tossed and stumbled, face bursting with blood and ruptured flesh. It threw up his hands to ward off his assault but it didn't matter. He was done playing games.

Done.

It stumbled and dropped to one knee on the floor and the gross parasite guiding it erupted from its back to whip around like a pissed off wavy tube man. He didn't have any more bullets. It was just him…and his knife.

So he ran.

Not away. No. He ran toward it. He ran and mounted the troll nimbly, agilely, angrily. He braced on that grayisn, pebbly flesh and started hacking. Blood flew, he was shouting his battle cry while he whipped the blade into the disgusting mutant that beckoned for it, and he kept hacking. He just kept going. The troll tried to rise and he redirected the blade to its shattered face and drove the heavy blade into its last remaining eye. Blinded, the troll shrieked in fear, and Leon kept on slashing its parasite.

Blood was everywhere. The world was awash in it. He didn't even see the hand that lifted to grab for him, he was too intent on killing that parasite. It grabbed him and threw him. It just threw him away.

He went out, he came down, he smashed into the wall and slid to the floor.

Something snapped in him.

He heard it.

Something broke.

Scared, he crawled anyway. He crawled but only one side of his body was working. His hand grabbed the lever and jerked. The floor chunked and clunked, and the lava took the last troll into its heated embrace. The world was filled with screaming, with the rapid whoosh and slosh of melting, and then silence.

Silence.

He collapsed to his face on the steel floor.

He was breathing too fast.

He was numb down his right side.

His spine?

He was afraid it was his spine.

He tried to get up and couldn't.

The doors opened and he heard the footsteps. She rolled him over. She was in some kind of coverall now. Her hair was still pretty and braided but her body was totally covered in ugly camel colored coveralls.

He mourned the little nightie.

He gasped and felt the blood spill down the corner of his mouth.

Yep.

Spine.

Terrified, Jill was feeling along his body. "What? What is it!?"

Leon slumped and saw the panic on her face. He tried to answer and couldn't. He couldn't answer. Because he was fairly sure he was paralyzed.

She turned her head, his vision blackend at the corners, and she spoke to someone he couldn't see. Who else was there!?

"Please! Hurry!"

A voice answered, "We need to activate the parasite to heal him. We have no other choice. Stab this in his chest. Hurry."

Whoever was there shifted into the narrowing spill of his sight but he couldn't see them anyway. Jill grabbed for his face and kissed him. Maybe. Maybe she kissed him. She stabbed him right in the fucking heart with whatever was in her fist.

And he died.

Right?

It was impossible to know the answer to anything in the dark that gathered him to its bosom and held on.

The sound of Jill's terror chased him into the cold black.

The jumble of images chased him around. He was fighting. He was being beaten back. He was on his face. He was being held down. Someone punched him in the face. Someone threw him into the wall.

"HOLD HIM!"

"I'm trying!"

"He's too strong! Break the knee!"

"Are you kidding!?"

"He'll heal it! But he'll kill you if you don't!"

Crunch.

Pain?

It washed through the red and found its way out of him in a roar.

But it worked like a charm.

Because the lights clicked on.

He collapsed to his back. Jill caught him and held on. His body started knitting his shattered knee and sent continuous electrical shocks through his body while it healed him. A double edged sword indeed.

He grunted, jerking in her arms.

The voice said, "Stop it, you fool. Be still."

The world blackened again and Jill shouted, "Don't you DARE hit him again!"

"He's trying to choke you!"

"No! You BITCH! He's trying to HUG me!" And so he was. He'd turned into her without realizing it. She wrapped him close, his face buried in her neck. His arms looped and clenched. He breathed, jerking a little as the pain spastically shook his limbs.

And Jill soothed him, "Shh. It's ok. Almost done now. Almost done."

The voice above him said, 'Stupid girl. STUPID girl. What have you done? You're in love with him."

Jill's voice echoed around him, "Yeah, I am."

"He's done for. The egg is hatching. If it hatches, there's no stopping the infection. Maybe surgery. MAYBE. But he won't survive that. He's on borrowed time. You should prepare yourself for the worse. The girl was injected before him. If he's this far gone, she's likely already turned."

"No." The determination in her voice calmed him. He went still in her arms, he stopped fighting the pain of the healing. He breathed and held on, trembling.

And he felt her cheek press to his hair as she stroked his back in circles. "No. It's not over until he's dead. You wanna run for it? Be my guest. But I'm not giving up on him."

The voice sounded impressed. And it sounded like Ada Wong.

"Stupid girl. Have it your way. There might be away to stop the progression of the parasite. I'll see what I can find….keep him alive."

The sound of retreating steps punctuated his rasping breaths.

Shaking, Leon whispered, "You should put me down."

Jill nudged his face up. She shook her head at him. He was sweaty and covered in blood. He was shaking and weak. She said, "You shut up, Leon Kennedy. Don't be fucking stupid. I was fucking stupid before. I let this thing in you scare me away. It was stupid. STUPID. It only wins if he we let it. I'm done letting it win. I'm going to rip it out of you with my bare hands if I have to. Don't give up. You hear me? Not now. Not ever. And we will find a way."

He lay passively in her arms for a moment, watching her unflappable courage on that beautiful face. Jesus Christ, he was in love with her. It radiated in his bones.

And he said, softly, "Ok. Don't give up on me."

Her hands petted his face, smoothing the blood away. She shook her head, smiling a little. Her cheeks were wet with tears. But her eyes were dry. And resolute.

Her strength echoed like a shout down a canyon. It filled him with determination. It closed the gap from fear and pain and left them replenished.

She vowed, "I will NEVER give up on you. Ever. But you have to keep getting up. Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good." She shifted and helped him, he got to his knees, and his hands let go of her. He eased away, shaking a little.

"Sorry. Sorry."

Jill shook her head and tried to touch him again but Leon stopped her. He set her away from him. It hurt her to see him struggle with it.

"Don't. I should have never put my hands on you. Ever. Not that first time. Not now. This is all my fault. I can't change it. But I can stop it from happening again."

"Leon…wait…I was wrong. I freaked out. I was wrong."

He shook his head and rose. "You weren't wrong. Your throat? Ringed in bruises, Jill. I nearly fucking killed you. You didn't freak out. You reacted like someone against an enemy. And I am. While this shit is in me? I'm your enemy."

A little panicky, Jill tried to touch him again but he backed away.

Low, she warned him, "Don't be stupid here, Leon. It's ok now. I'm prepared. We weren't prepared before. We didn't get it. We're ok now. Don't do something stupid."

In the shimmering heat, he met her gaze.

And he did something stupid.

"The stupid is done, Jill. We did it together. I've been trying to get my fucking hands on you from the moment I met you. We did it. We got it out of our systems. It's done. And it nearly got you killed. You kept yelling it at me before, that we can't do this. I didn't listen. But I'm listening now. You and me? For now? Better apart. You were right about that. The second we can split up, you get the BSAA to drop boots down here and get you out."

Jill shook her head, "You can't get rid of me because you're scared. I won't let you."

"I mean it, Jill. Get lost. Get out of here. I don't want you around anymore. I don't know how long I've got. If I turn and kill you, Ashley is finished. I need you alive to make sure the mission isn't for nothing. I can't promise that I won't turn on you. Be smart here and run for it. Please."

She shook her head again. They faced each other in the roaring heat.

And then she picked up the shotgun and tossed it to him. He caught it, watching her face. And she finally answered him, "You're an idiot. Genius, my ass. You're a fucking idiot. I'm not going anywhere. So, I guess you're just gonna have to figure out how not to kill me. By the way? I don't die that easy. And you're not that fucking good. You had me naked and gasping last time. I don't make the same mistake twice. And I don't underestimate my enemies."

They held eyes.

His voice echoed a little in the bustling room. "So you agree that I'm your enemy?"

"No. You're not my enemy. But that thing in you is. I said I'd get it out of you. And that's what I'm going to do. You can fight beside me or behind me, your choice. But I'm not running for it. I don't run. So, shut the fuck up. And stop being an idiot."

She shoved passed him so hard he stumbled.

He watched her move and there it was. The craving. It speared around his belly like a wound. It hurt, wanting her. It was insane.

And it was DANGEROUS.

She grabbed the doors and shoved them open. He watched her move in the shapeless coveralls and wanted her. It was that simple. It was a mess. It was the way it was.

And it was stupid to stand there trying to change it.

He jogged up to join her. She glanced up at his face. "You're steady?"

He felt pretty good actually. Whatever they'd shot him full of was making him feel alert and functional. Which was saying something since he'd just broken his damn back a few minutes before.

"Yeah. I'm good. Where'd you get the coveralls?"

They shifted down a narrow hallway until they were face to face with a mine cart, a track over an abyss, and no other options.

Jill sighed and answered, "I found the mine worker's rest area. I took care of a few of them and one ugly ass chainsaw man. And I scored this sweet get up. Sexy right? I figured it was as far removed from sexy as one could get."

She climbed into the mine cart, Leon tugged the brake release and vaulted in with her, and the cart squealed with a release of metal and started chugging down the track. She stumbled a little and he grabbed her arms to hold her up right. His body reacted to the touch of her and had him sighing a little.

"Turns out? Still sexy."

She glanced up at his face and laughed a little, gently. "It'll be ok. Don't give up on me either, ok?"

The cart chugged around a corner with a clackety clack of wheels. They were suspended on the track and racing over an endless drop into nothing. They didn't both to look down. They were too busy looking at each other.

And Leon answered, quietly, "I can't give up on you. I love you too, Jill. Maybe I have from the beginning. Maybe it was the moment I woke up in that cave because you saved my fucking life. I don't know. But I think you're worse than the parasite. Because I can't get you out of me."

Her heart hammered a little. She curled her fingers into his vest and held on. "You want me out?"

"No." He shook his head, "I want you in. I want to be in you too."

The truth of that made them both a little breathless.

"I can't do anything but want that." His fingers brushed her bruised throat. And the shame on his face hurt her. "But this is what happens when I touch you."

Shaking her head, Jill put her arms around him and held on. Against his chest, she whispered, "That wasn't you. You know that. It wasn't you. We'll fix. I swear to god, we'll fix it."

He nudged her face up and kissed her. The wind rushed around them as the cart cornered again and kept on gaining speed. It was a sweet kiss. It was tender. It was filled with something very real and very scary.

Jill opened her eyes to see his face while they kissed and saw it.

The end of the track.

The END OF THE TRACK.

AND THE DROP INTO THE ABYSS.

She shook him, her throat locking up in horror. He turned his head and she felt his whole body tighten.

"Jill?"

"….yeah?" A whisper.

"Jump."

A mild word really for what they'd need to bridge that divide.

The cart hit the end of the track. It squealed and threw sparks. It started to plummet.

And they jumped.

Leon pushed off the cart and threw her. He balled his fist in the back of her coveralls and just launched her. Like he was tossing a football in ugly camel brown dickies. He shouted with the effort of it.

She flew, she grabbed the broken piece of track on the other side and dangled. He missed and hit the wall. He skidded down and got a good grip ten feet below her.

Jill shouted, "Are you ok!?"

"Well….I'm dangling on a fucking rock wall over nothing...which sucks shit...but I'm not dead! So...I guess that's a win?!"

And she laughed.

She laughed.

And she called back to him, "Show me a piano falling down a mineshaft and I'll show you "A-Flat" miner….bum psh!"

She punned while he was half dead hanging off a slick rock wall.

She punned.

It was impossible. It was horrible.

And it was good to laugh.

He started climbing up the damn wall.

What else could they do here?

It was a complete fucking mess.

And it was the first time he really felt like maybe they were going to die here. Maybe they were. But they'd die laughing.

And so maybe it was going to be ok after all.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Thanks for all the supports on this little guy. I know it's not the most popular ship. I don't care. It's SO FUN to write. And isn't that why we do this after all? Let's get to killing Salazar, shall we? (Setting it up anyway. We'll really kill him in the next chapter)._

* * *

 **XIV: Golem**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

The little elevator they were on lifted to the surface and the warm air gushed around them, smelling like rain and storms and winter. It smelled like snow. A quick glance up the mountain range that danced beautifully behind the stormy clouds spelled a hard winter. Their peaks were already dotted and happily wearing caps of the fluffy white stuff that promised to bury the little Spanish village before the season was over.

They'd found a stupid looking stone on the other side of the mines. It was currently in Jill's coverall pocket. Assuming, without much effort, that it was necessary for some goddamn puzzle in this ridiculous nightmare – they'd held on to it. The cold seeped into your bones as you walked, branching out from their mouths in puffy white clouds of breath.

Chilly, Jill gave a shiver as they moved.

She was cold in the heavy cloth she was wearing. She could only IMAGINE how cold he was. But he didn't look cold at all. His arms, encased in their elbow pads and tactical gloves, didn't even look like they were sporting goosebumps. He looked a little flushed actually.

Jill put a hand on his forearm and wasn't disappointed.

He was burning up.

She said, "How's the fever?"

He shrugged, smiling a little. "I actually feel fine."

When she said nothing, he glanced down at her. And he laughed, lightly, "I'm fine, Jill. I swear. The pills stopped the progression, clearly. And mask the symptoms. Whatever you shot me up with before is like adrenaline. I feel great."

The shadow of the castle lingered above them, offering a pretty back drop to the concern on her face. The small alcove of broken stone and ramparts gave the suggestion of a bygone era when knights and their steeds would build a fire and lament their losses on the battlefield. The area hugged the mountain side, promising a short walk to the door that lingered in the side of craggy rock.

From this distance, it looked like the mouth of a lion that waited for the thing in Jill's pocket.

She kept hold of his arm and turned him toward her in the moonlight. Leon anchored the amused expression on his face. But she could see the shadow of it flicker behind his eyes.

What was the flicker?

The parasite?

Or the fear of it?

Jill started to remark on it and a sound drew their attention. They were no longer alone.

A group of villagers were lingering around the fire by the door. They were laughing and cursing and talking about things that Jill wasn't even prepared to begin to understand. The word rape was in there and blood. She heard something about fire and…of course…

" _Agente!"_

Because they sure loved talking killing Leon Kennedy.

Jill felt something in her guts that hadn't been there before. It was Leon busting his fucking ass against an entire fucking army. It was Leon getting the shit kicked out of him and getting some goddamn parasite shot into his body. It was Leon GOING ON when he should have given up and gone home.

And it was her.

The girl in love with Leon Kennedy.

And it was enough.

He started to raise the shotgun and she grabbed the barrel and shook her head.

"Stay here. Please." She touched his face. She was tired of watching him fall down, get up, keep going and nearly die. She was tired of being afraid he'd turn, of fighting with him to hold on, of fighting how she felt about him. She was tired of bad guys and midgets with dark agendas and megalomaniacs trying to take over the world.

She had to get the aggression out. Since she couldn't throw him down and fuck him until they were both empty of it, she had to take the second option.

Beating the shit out of something.

"What?"

"Just stay here."

She jerked the knife from his vest and turned toward the group of villagers.

The first one glanced up and saw her through the flickering firelight. He didn't get a chance to shout a warning. Not even a peep.

The knife took him in the left eye as she launched it.

It thrummed as it struck, and the other villagers scattered as she leaped over the roaring fire to kill them. The flames crackled, Jill jerked the knife free from the face of the fallen man, and they charged her. She watched Leon race toward her and held up her hand to hold him back.

He paused and waited.

She'd asked him to wait.

So, he waited.

And he didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.

Jill danced while she fought. Her dark hair caught the fire and glimmered. Her eyes held the flickering shadow and glowed. The knife sounded almost musical as she swept it over throats and flourished it with precise and deadly skill.

The first one to touch her received a roundhouse kick to the face and a knife in the groin. She ducked, missing the driving fist of the second one, and ripped the knife from the screaming villager to stab it into the throat of the next one. She didn't stop.

The knife came with her as she launched herself up and over the struggling man's shoulders. It was like a cartwheel with blood. It was incredible. He'd never seen anything or anyone move like her.

She was graceful even as she was deadly. Jill landed, spun into a foot sweep on the next one, and she reversed and kicked even they fell. The move threw the woman into the man behind her. They went down in a heap. Jill flipped into a beautiful double back tuck and avoided losing her head to the pitchfork of another one.

She shoulder rolled the moment she landed, launched that blade in her hand, and buried it in the chest of the man with the pitchfork. The heap of the other two were running for her now. Amused, she danced a little as they grabbed for her.

She caught the wrist of the woman, ducked to avoid the grabbing hands of the man, spun back and threw the woman at him, and kicked her in the back to send her stumbling into him. They scrambled to stay upright, and Jill grabbed the woman's arm, jerked, and vaulted up.

She threw her body back and launched the woman out and away. The man grabbed for Jill as she landed, and she elbowed him in the face for it. He careened left, Jill grabbed his arm and leveraged herself up. She grabbed his face with her thighs, jerked her hips, and filled the crackling air with the wet pop of breaking bone.

She broke his fucking neck kneeling on his face.

It was an interesting thing to find that sexy.

But there it was.

Leon leaned on the broken stone of the rampart beside him, crossing his arms on his chest. Wait, she'd said, just wait. He was waiting. She didn't need him. She was Athena or something. She didn't need any help at all.

The final woman rushed toward her and Jill ducked, elbowed her in the face, punched her with a cross jab combo while she reeled, and hip kicked her to her back. The knife was still embedded in the dead guy behind her, so she improvised. She straddled the screaming woman, picked up a chunk of broken stone, and brought it down on her wailing face.

The satisfying crunch and pop of bone and blood echoed.

Tossing aside the bloody stone, Jill rose. She was panting. But she felt better then she had in ages. Enough cowering. Enough running. Enough.

Her eyes turned up as he moved to stand beside her.

His hand came down, hers came up, and he pulled her to her feet.

Leon looked wryly amused.

Jill intoned, quietly, "I won't let you turn into one them."

The promise of that meant more to him then anything else. They held hands, watching the other in the orange glow. And he answered, "Thank you."

Jill let go of his hand with a nod. "You're welcome."

They moved toward the door with the lion head on it. Jill secured the little sacrificial stone in the mouth of it and the door rose with a rumble and a spill of dust. She started through the door and he caught her forearm.

She lifted her eyes to his face.

And he queried, "How does this end, Jill?"

She turned into him. She stroked the feverish skin of his face and said, "With you…still you."

He nodded. She lifted and put their cheeks together. His was so warm.

They separated and moved into the long hallway. They were in some kind of tower now. It would likely the bridge the distance from one to the other. There was an enormous statue of Salazar just hanging out in the center of the tower.

It was as big as a sky scraper.

Jill snorted.

Leon quipped, "He WISHES he was that big."

Curious, Jill tilted her head, "Penis envy?"

"Somethin like that. Maybe he figured he'd make an enormous stone version of himself and he wouldn't be a nasty little midget man anymore."

With a small chuckle, Jill followed him to the narrow stone bridge that crossed the watery moat and offered the doors from the tower. "If you dream it, you can be it?"

Leon laughed, "I can dream about being huge and hard all the time too. Pretty sure it won't make it come true."

Jill smirked a little and remarked, "I think you're selling yourself...short."

He paused, glancing at her. She blinked. He blinked. And she added, "I was actually NOT trying to make a pun there."

"...punning without trying. You're a gifted woman."

She laughed a little and shrugged. Her cheeks were pink. Why? And he realized it was the huge and hard remark. She was flushed thinking about him that way. It tickled in his belly.

He liked the tickling. He liked her flushing. It felt good to see it. It meant there was still hope for them.

They were halfway across the bridge when the sound of grumbling filled the tower. It was punctuated by a metallic whirring of gears. Leon glanced back; Jill didn't.

He cautioned, soft but urgent, "We should run."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Now. Fast. Go. RUN!"

The cacophonous boom of sound was deafening. The stone Goliath had broken free of its bonds. It destroyed the struts and supports that alighted around it as it burst forth from its self imposed prison to give chase to their fleeing backs.

The dissonant thunder of its pursuit propelled them to speeds that would have gotten them Olympic medals. Jill could feel her heart in her ears. She could taste the coppery flavor of fear like a powerful aphrodisiac to push faster and run farther then she'd ever run before.

The first column it struck shook loose with a grumble of angry stone. It tumbled, like a felled tree, as if someone should shout, "TIMBER!". And it plummeted toward them as they ran.

Leon grabbed her and threw her forward. The action saved her and cost him. It nearly struck him, but he threw himself into a pretty brilliant front tuck and rolled out in a less then graceful somersault. The shattered column cleaved the bridge two inches behind his back. Too close.

Horrifying.

And no time to feel it.

Jill leveraged him to his feet as they kept on running.

They raced on, maddeningly, impossibly.

The door at the end of the bridge was locked.

Terrified, out of time, Jill reared back and drove a hip kick into the metal. It clanged and held. Leon echoed it, smashing his boot into the reluctant end of their harrowing dash for safety. The door gave with a burst of sound and they pushed into the cold air, running.

Still running.

They hit the bridge that crossed to the other tower and kept going.

Jill gasped, "Is it done!?"

And the answer came in the form of the enormous stone golem bursting through the side of the tower they'd left behind in an eruption of stone and a scream of dissolution. It threw stone and rock as if it were fireworks around them. Bullets of broken building exploded and shot off into the dark as they ran for it.

The tower crumbled from the assault, falling down into the dark behind them. It was as if someone had hit the button on a demolition. The building just collapsed from the damage as the golem chased them across the crumbling rampart.

They were halfway across and Leon shouted, "We won't make it!"

"What!?"

"It's too close, Jill, and the structural integrity of this fucking castle is blown. We won't make it!"

Too late, she figured out what he meant to do.

"NO!"

He turned back and raced at the golem. The horror of it spilled from her in a shout of denial. But he didn't stop. He grabbed the pursuing ankle of the monstrosity and started climbing. Jill kept running.

What else could she do?

With a desperate heave, Leon mounted the golem. His arm tossed him, his muscles bunched, and his body propelled him like an acrobat. The driving legs kept pursuing Jill. Whatever else was true, it wasn't an organic creature. It was some kind of robot, controlled by a device. He needed to find it and disable it.

He reached the arm and swung up and around the back, clamoring toward the head. It seemed the most likely place to put a kill switch. Did it have one? Maybe not. But he had to try.

Or it would take the whole fucking castle with it and kill them all.

There was a lever on its back between its shoulder blades. He pushed off the shoulder and grabbed it, swinging. His weight dropped the lever, but the pursuit didn't stop. Pushing up, Leon climbed toward the head.

Sure enough, on the back of the ugly hat the makeshift Salazar was wearing, another lever waited. He grabbed it, dropped it, and the golem kept on going. Ok. So, another one?

Where?

Leon swung around the front of the statue.

He considered, watching Jill flagging and running out of time below him on the ramparts.

And the golem opened its mouth.

Inside that gaping maw?

A switch.

He didn't hesitate; he swung inside the open mouth. It started closing before he landed. Leon dove for the lever, jerked it down, and the mouth paused on its descent toward crushing him to death. It rumbled loudly. The body went stiff and frozen and the weight of the damn thing did the job anyway.

The bridge beneath them cracked and shattered. The stone burst and broke apart.

Leon turned, raced out of the mouth of the golem, the bridge fell away completely and Jill was shouting in horror.

He pushed off in a desperate lunge, tucked his body into a roll to brace for the fall, and hit the other side of the bridge. He rolled, skidded, and the roar of the falling robot filled the air around him. The clatter of shattered rock echoed as he rolled across the ramparts.

The momentum threw him into the wall of the tower and he him finally stopping.

With a grunt, Leon lay there for a moment relearning how to breathe.

And he finally quipped, "Good thing I jumped right? Otherwise I'd have been completely…"hopless"…bum psh."

There was no answer.

He rolled his head and found the bridge empty.

Empty.

His brain couldn't make sense of it.

And then it did.

Jill wasn't on the bridge.

Jill wasn't with him.

His mouth said, "No."

And he pushed to his feet. He raced to the edge of the broken bridge and glanced down. She wasn't holding on. Not exactly.

She was backwards, dangling, and her coveralls were hooked on a jagged piece of rock. Horrified, he called down to her, "Are you alright!?"

She glanced up, deadpan, "Oh, you know it! Just hanging around."

His mouth twitched and he tossed his rappel line down to her where she dangled. She caught it, looped it over her foot and wound it once around her arm. Leon braced, tugged, and she grunted.

The coveralls were snagged on the rock pretty good. She wasn't going anywhere.

He queried, "Can you take them off?"

Her look, again, was incredulous, "You kidding? That's not a good idea."

"Why?"

"Last time I did that, I nearly had to kill you."

Oh.

Amused, Leon laughed a little, "I'll behave, swear to god. You can't just hang there all night, Jill."

"Why not? I like hanging around with castles. Hanging around with skyscrapers sucks. It's just story after story."

He couldn't stop the chuckle. She grinned up at him.

And he remarked, "Of course. The ramparts aren't where the cool kids hang. You know, in medieval times people were always "hanging" out by the gallows."

Jill giggled a little and stole his heart.

Leon mused, "I'll be a good boy, Jill. Scouts honor."

Jill glanced up at him, lips pursed. "This is a bad idea."

"Maybe. But you can't keep hanging down there. Eventually you'll fall."

"Why? Your rope here seems in good shape."

"Frayed knot. That thing is bad noose."

The silence was missing a drum roll. But it was lit anyway with her laughter. What an idiot, she thought happily, horrible. Puns all over the place. How did someone look like that and be so silly? It was a wonderful thing.

Her hand unzipped the coveralls even as she pushed from the wall and slid out of them. Back in her sad little nightie, freezing in the cold air, she started climbing up the wall. "Your humor is horrid, Mr. Kennedy."

He called down to her, happily, "It isn't. It's awesome. Don't be mean, Jill."

She reached the top, he helped her up and didn't even grope her, and she felt a little sad from it.

Really? Her mind mused, you're insulted? Make up your mind woman. Either you want him to grope you or you don't. Which is it?

It was both and why he was, without a doubt, the most infuriating man on Earth.

The cold seeped into her bones as they walked. He glanced at her, concerned, and she shook her head. But he could see her nipples pressing on that thin cloth. He could see her shivering. Lord.

What kind of god was it that left her in that damn thing around him all the time?

Some torture device made of white silk.

He cleared them into the tower. It was warmer inside. It was filled with stairs that climbed happily upward and invited them to keep on coming. It wasn't empty.

Salazar stood there smiling at them. And what was, apparently, his left hand stood beside him.

He tilted his head, watching them.

"You are a pest, Mr. Scott Kennedy. To be sure. I had assumed I was done with you."

Leon shifted in front of Jill, just a little, just enough. Annoyed, touched, and confused Jill let him. And he answered that squeaky little voice with enough wry amusement in his tone to make her smile a little. "That's the thing about a pest, Salazar. They just don't know when to quit."

"Clearly," Salazar studied them across the small circular room. It was done in shades of red and blue and ancient tapestries. "The ritual that is about to occur in this tower will make your President's daughter no longer such a pest. She will be endowed with powers beyond her wildest expectations."

Curious, Leon watched the wild excitement on that craggy little face. "You can't be serious. Forcing her to bring down an entire country at your behest isn't a ritual, you little maggot, it's terrorism."

Salazar giggled. The gray cloaked monster continued to watch them beneath the dark hood. They both knew what was beneath the cloak. Neither was eager to face it again.

"Isn't that a popular word these days? Americans…always assuming that everyone with a different set of ideals is a terrorist. Arrogance will be your downfall. Soon the game of power you play will finally turn against you. The girl in our possession is our most useful pawn in that game." Salazar glanced at Jill over Leon's shoulder, "Perhaps I should tell you that your woman behind you is no longer of use to us. You've…tainted her it seems."

Leon laughed, lightly now, "I'd say she's better off for it. I don't think she was at all flattered that you wanted to offer her up like a brood mare to your disgusting boss."

Salazar chortled now, amused, "Only while she was still whole. You see, a virginal sacrifice would have been a sign of power. A corrupted whore is of use to no one. You used her it seems and stolen her worth. But don't you worry; we'll have a ritual for the both of you soon. Perhaps I should show yo-"

The hand he lifted to signal his minion was met with the whistle and thunk of movement. Leon's heavy knife was embedded in his palm, anchoring it to the wall where it had slid against. In a slow turn of head, Salazar made a squeal of pain and horror as the blood spilled thick and red down his flesh.

Without a second passing, the thing beside him gripped the heavy blade and jerked it free from his ravaged flesh, reversing it with a whip of wind. The dagger arrowed right for them and it was fast and deadly. The speed of it forced Leon to throw Jill to the side to avoid being stabbed in the face. The knife sunk into the wall an inch from her left eye.

In the ensuing commotion, Salazar and his minion had escaped onto a boxy little elevator and it was steadily climbing upward through the tower. He shouted down to them, screeching, "I'm going to enjoy killing you! YOU WORM!"

Leon shouted after him, "COWARD! Get back here!"

Jill jerked his knife from the wall as he turned back to face her. The elevator continued upward, unfazed by the anger of the two that waited beneath it.

She offered it to him, butt first.

He took it and grabbed her arm when she started to head for the stairs that climbed the side of the tower in a spiraling ascension.

It was a sharp grab and the move shocked her, stung, and stole her breath. She eyed him with more than a little anger. His face was so angry. Angry. Why? At whom? Salazar?

No…her.

He breathed, quietly, "Tell me he's lying."

Jill studied his face, looking for the reason for the anger. "About what?"

His eyes volleyed over her countenance, looking for something she had no answer to. And then he said, "About you being virginal before I touched you."

Oh. Shit. Jill kept her face blank, "He's lying."

She jerked her arm free and ran for the stairs.

Leon stood there, breathing. His stomach was in knots. His brain was shooting things at him from the moment they'd met. _I don't let men touch me_ , she'd said. _Why do you think I don't touch men? I don't ever bother._

A corrupted whore, he'd said. Was that what she was? Was she corrupted? Had he stood there in the boiling heat and corrupted her?

Had she been a virgin before that? How was that even possible? She'd kissed him and touched him and…run. She'd run. That first night. She'd run away. Why? Because she'd never had a man before? That would be stupid. That was surely stupid.

Wasn't it?

He raced up the stairs behind her. She was in that little nothing of an outfit. She was beautiful and sexy and sweet and…nervous. She was always nervous when he touched her. Why? Because of the mission?

Or because she'd never bothered to "let a man touch her" before?

Jesus.

A loaded possibility.

The stairs curled around the tower in a serpentine path. They ran without speaking, rushing after the midget that was making their lives miserable. Was Ashley still waiting for them? Was she even Ashley anymore?

Across rickety ramparts, they hurried even as the sounds of Salazar's retreat left a lurking silence behind. It filled the air with a ripeness of things left unsaid, of lies let loose in the night, of love lost beneath the tides of regret. It was thousand things they wanted to say and couldn't.

It was the parasite inside of him and the pain of the truth between them.

It was Ashley lost and waiting and the world unknowingly on the precipice of destruction.

It was Raccoon City and Terragrigia and coupling in the boiling heat while they fought for their lives.

And it was the unknowing.

What waited at the top of this tower?

A small lift took them into the cold air. They were suddenly outside the tower and rounding the narrow walkway to the top of it. It was chilly stone and silence.

Chilly silence.

And lies.

But who's? Salazar's? Or Jill's?

A set of double doors blocked their way forward. Jill grabbed for the handles and Leon caught her before she could open them.

He spun her around and threw her against the wall beside them. She gasped, shaking from the cold air, from the adrenaline, from the fear. Of him?

Or the truth?

His hands caught her arms and held her against the cold stone. "Were you a virgin, Jill?"

The question filled the pregnant silence like a slap. Jill was breathing heavy and fast from their run to the top of the tower. She wanted to look away from him but the earnest expression on his face wouldn't let her. So, instead, she answered, "Does it matter?"

That was answer enough.

Something slid around in his belly and brought his breath out in a gust, "Jill….why?"

So soft.

She didn't like it. It felt like pity now. And she didn't want the pity. She didn't want that. There was no reason for pity. It was a choice, hers, and she wasn't ashamed of it. She'd never cared before him. It was a choice. And it didn't need defending.

So, she said it again, low and with feeling, "Does it matter, Leon? Right now? In this moment? Does any of this matter?"

It shouldn't. But it did.

It did.

She'd let him use her like some kind of…and he'd choked the shit out of her and scared her and hurt her. He was mired in guilt and shame over it. It should have been something soft and beautiful for her. But it wasn't. It was being rutted on by a horny pig in a boiling basement and slapped around by a manic parasite.

He'd waited too long to respond.

Shaking her head, Jill pushed him away; roughly.

"Don't. Not now. Not now. I'm not sorry. Don't you be. Don't."

She grabbed the doors and shoved them open.

She slammed into the room beyond and left him alone in the cold and the dark with the guilt of knowing he'd used her…and the niggling little shame that came with knowing he wanted to do it again.

It was coupled with the triumph of being the first man to have touched her.

And the knowledge that he wanted to be the only one to ever touch her.

A heady mix of emotions swirled inside him. He started to consider all of them and the noise beyond the door stole his breath.

There was no more time to think about being inside Jill Valentine. No more time to try to slay the demons of possession and obsession that gnawed at his guts for her.

A battle was happening inside him. A battle was happening beyond the doors where she'd fled to avoid him.

And only one needed his attention.

He wanted to throw her down and love her. And there was no time for that either.

He turned instead to stand beside her and fight against an enemy he could actually kill.


	16. Chapter 16

**XV: Midgets Make Evil Enemies**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

* * *

The room beyond the door was a madhouse.

It was like something out of a Steven King novel. It was an enormous mutant flower dripping with ectopic gunk with Salazar floating in the middle like some kind of disgusting half birthed fetus. The pink tissue containing him pulsated and flared as if it were a rectum prepared to push out the little turd in the world's worst shit.

A huge tentacle was slapping at Jill like it would turn her into a Jill sandwich. The U-shaped over hang where she was currently running rocked and shook with each smash. The tentacle had a face; a horrible, nightmarish face that appeared to be naked bone with protruding eyes. The eyes tracked her as the mouth opened to show a tongue and teeth meant to rip her apart respectively.

It reared back to strike and Leon rolled the shotgun into his hands.

He blasted it a foot from Jill's face.

Blood splattered all over her little nightie.

She jumped and fell to her butt.

Her flecked face rolled toward him.

With a wink, he tossed her the shotgun.

She caught it, curious.

Too late, she figured out what he meant to do. "LEON KENNEDY! DON'T YOU DARE!"

Leon backed up two paces, rolled his neck with a pop, and raced at the thing on the wall. Jill shouted in rage and started shooting. The noise was so loud it hurt the ears.

He leaped and grabbed onto the whipping tentacle. It tried to toss him loose, the thing that was Salazar emerged in a burst of nasty goop and laughter, and Leon started climbing. Jill shot the tentacle in the face as it dove for her.

It reared back and dangled as it tried to recover. Salazar roared at her now, taunting. "WHERE IS YOUR STUPID AGENT NOW, GIRL!? EH!? DID HE FINALLY RUN AWAY TO HIDE? AND HE CALLS ME A COWARD! I WILL ENJOY WATCHING YOU SCREAM AS I RIP YOU TO PIECES!"

"Salazar, do us both a favor and shut the fuck up." Leon had finished climbing during Salazar's pathetic speech. Unaware, the idiot monster had kept trying to kill Jill while she out maneuvered him. He squealed like a pig a second before Leon crammed the enormous knife in his hand right into his squeaking pie hole.

It went in, up, and out the top of his head with A POP and a wet BURP of fluid and bone. Totally gross. Totally rewarding. And SATSIFYING.

Salazar jerked spastically. It looked like he'd stuck his nasty finger in an electrical socket. His flower tried to close them both inside of it and Jill screamed, "JUMP DOWN NOW!"

Leon jerked the blade clean and let go, just like that.

He tumbled down to the musical roar of the shotgun blasting where he'd been and Salazar screaming and gurgling. It was a good fall. Bracing for it, he rolled through it as he landed but it jarred his knee anyway.

Hobbling a little, Leon hurried toward the narrow little ladder on the far side of the pit where he found himself.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone in the pit.

He was joined by a handful of the Alien creatures that had tried to kill Jill.

They scuttled like crabs, waving their whipping tails around devilishly, and Leon kicked the first one that leaped at him out of the air. It smashed into the wall with a squeal, he ducked to avoid the next one that jumped, and rolled to his back to throw his boots into its belly.

He kicked it up and out and rolled across the floor to miss the next one that tried to land on his face. As it grabbed for him, he grabbed it first and threw it away in a shoulder toss. The fourth one got a piece of him, which he saw coming and couldn't avoid, it drove that nasty little tail like a knife right into his shoulder.

It hit, stung, burned and brought his foot up to kick it clear like a punted football. The thing flew, Leon grabbed the ladder and climbed, and his shoulder started bleeding. At the top, he barely missed being creamed by the flopping tentacle as it came down in a rush to kill him. Jill shouted the warning, Leon rolled into a somersault and felt the tentacle smash the ground an inch from his spine, and Salazar's laughter lit the air.

Apparently, the stab to the face and shotgun blasts weren't gonna finish the little son of a bitch after all.

The tentacle didn't try to smash him on the second pass. It looped around him as if it were a boa constrictor and picked Leon clean up off the ground as he tried to avoid being splattered. Jill blasted the tentacle at the base but it only shivered and dragged him over to Salazar's laughing form.

"You are a pathetic turd, Mr. Kennedy! How does it feel to know you will be ripped to pieces?"

Grunting, feeling his bones compress and waiting for the moment they popped and he passed out, Leon taunted hoarsely, "Feels better than being a tiny sized second banana to a psycho. I'd watch the turd comments, Salazar. Seriously. You look like a poopsicle dangling up here. Hard to be afraid of a dingleberry."

With a roar, the tentacle tossed him.

It threw him like it was trying to get the runner out at home.

He went out, waited for the moment he hit and exploded, and Jill caught him.

Their bodies struck, she slowed his momentum, and they tumbled together off the platform to the ground below.

Leon had enough presence of mind to roll them in the air and take the brunt of the fall on his side. The landing was cushioned, surprisingly, by a pile of dead Alien creatures. They hit, there was a crunch and pop of splattering exoskeleton, and Jill rolled him under her.

Surprised, he realized she was covering him to protect him.

Leon was touched at the same time he was amused. The tentacle came for them, he grabbed her little nightgown and jerked, and they were rolling across the floor as it hit the pile of carcasses. Bodies went flying like fireworks around them and they scrambled to their feet.

Flipping the knife in his hand, he offered it to her.

She grabbed the hilt, glanced at his face, and nodded.

Just like that, they were on the same page.

Racing to the base of the wall, Leon dropped his hands to a cradle, caught her running foot as she threw it in them and tossed her up.

She flew up, grabbed the monster mess, and started climbing.

Leon ran for the ladder and half climbed, half leaped up to get its attention. He grabbed the fallen shotgun, reloaded, and fired into the mess of Salazar as the tentacle swung back toward him. The tentacle swung, Leon ducked. The tentacle swiped, and Leon timed it like a jump rope. It's face opened as it prepared to strike and he blasted it in the eye until it recoiled with a scream.

As it dangled, Jill reached the flower. It opened and Salazar giggled…until he saw her.

He tried to shout and she drove the knife into his face. Screaming, he tried to smack at her as she flourished that blade on him. It was horrible. She cut, jabbed, stabbed and put it three times into his chest while he screamed high and low and awful.

When the chest was a gaping mess, she reached inside of it while he shrieked.

Like a horror movie, the sound of his bones popping filled the room. The moment his heart was exposed, Jill stuck the knife into it with a shout of rage. The tentacle flopped, jerked, and plopped. Salazar stopped screaming. His hands stopped grabbing. And his body fell into seizures.

Jill jerked the knife free and pushed off the wall, leaping toward the walkway.

Leon caught her, easily, and they backed up to the door to watch.

His hand slipped down to hers. Their fingers twined and held.

They could have run.

But there was no running. That time had passed.

This was the time to watch that little son of a bitch DIE.

He burst as if someone had ruptured a water balloon. Fluid spilled ripe and rank down upon the pit where they'd stood as his body flopped and disintegrated. The room shook. Dust fell in a swirls and whirls of deliverance.

And silence spilled around them.

Jill trembled and his eyes turned to her.

She whispered, softly, "Is it over?"

"Not until we get Ashley. You ready?"

She nodded. Her face was flecked with blood.

He wanted to kiss her.

He let go of her hand and moved out of the doors. She stood for a moment, shivering where she stood. She needed some fucking clothes.

She'd die of pneumonia before she died of anything else.

Moving after him, Jill climbed onto the lift that waited before the walkway. The cold air slipped right up under her nightgown and made her tremble. She hugged herself as the lift started to lower them down into the mountain.

Concerned, Leon inquired, "You ok?"

"Fine. Freezing. But fine." She shivered again. "Think there's a coat down here?"

Amused, Leon shrugged, "I had one once. I mourn it."

"Makes two of us. I gave it back to you once. I shouldn't have."

He laughed a little. The lift chugged happily.

Jill shivered again.

And he figured…fuck it.

He took her arm and turned her into his body. She made a small sound, stiffened, and then relented. Why not? He was feverish. And he was TOASTY.

It felt amazing.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, his arms curled over her back, and they held. She put her face in his neck and tried to see how close she could get. He could feel the butterfly wing beat of her heart against him.

He wanted to put his hand on her little butt under that nightgown and stroke her skin.

He kept his hands where they belonged.

He wasn't going to risk her to the fucking parasite in him because he wanted her that much. Not again. Ever. She shifted and her little cold nipples brushed his chest. The temperature differences in their bodies was startling.

The feel of touching was always startling.

Damnit.

Jill breathed, softly, "Thank you."

"Better?" He murmured it by her ear.

"….yes…and no."

And now he laughed. "Right. Yes and no. Sounds about right."

The lift bumped to a stop.

He dropped his arms and stepped back. Jill wrapped her arms over her chest. They didn't look at each other. They were back to this point again, he mused, where they avoided looking at each other.

It was infuriating.

Stepping off the lift, he gave her the shotgun and pulled his Magnum.

They moved quietly through the small tunnel. It was a cave cut into the mountain, clearly, and led them happily toward the sound of water.

And a speedboat…with Ada Wong in the driver seat.

She cocked her head, looking at them. "Well hi there…need a ride?"

Curious, Leon asked, "Where are we going?"

"I assume you're after the girl. They took her to an island a few miles away. I'm headed that way myself as it turns out. Care to tag along?"

Jill glanced up at him.

Ada wondered if either of them was aware that the girl kept her hand on his forearm as they stood there. It was nothing really, a simple touch, but it spoke volumes. Curious about the nature of them, Ada mused, tonelessly, "Unless you'd rather stay here and play footsie, of course. The girl is probably a goner anyway. Why not await a rescue in a quiet love nest somewhere close by? Hmm?"

Jill dropped her hand. Leon shook his head and laughed, "Always the bitch, Ada."

"I have my moments. Shall we?"

They climbed on the speedboat and she gunned the engine, taking them out into the cold dark.

If Jill wasn't cold before, she was freezing now. As the boat jerked and cut across the water, she sat in the seat shivering. Annoyed by it, Leon finally pulled her into his arms and tucked her close.

Ada smirked ruefully, guiding the vessel with a practiced hand.

The waves slapped the hull, the boat zipped merrily, and Jill curled on his lap like a child. She looped her arm around his waist, snuggling into his warmth. Her head laid gently on the swell of his chest and her fingers stroked almost lazily over his belly.

He had a choice here, he thought, he could sit there uptight and annoyed or he could relax and just enjoy it.

His arm curled around her back and tucked her closer. His other hand slid down and over the silky spill of the nightie to cup her hip and pull her into his warmth a little more. She relaxed like she was melting. He did too.

There, he thought, THAT felt right.

And good.

It was ok to let it feel good.

Just not good enough that he ended up choking the life out of her.

Beside him, Ada said quietly, "Saddler has more minions waiting for you. Worse ones. The ganados are easy enough to defeat. But they get smarter with guidance. And this island is his sanctuary, Leon. Don't think it gets easier. From here on out? It's gonna get a lot worse."

Awesome.

Sarcastically, he quipped, "Like fighting a dragon right?"

Ada lifted a brow at him.

"Easier "slayed" than done."

She gave him a narrow look and glanced at Jill on his lap. "There's some spare clothes in the lock box on the back of the boat."

Surprised, Leon glanced at her profile. Her face showed nothing. It was, as always, beautiful and elusive.

"….thank you. Why?"

A single shoulder shrugged. Ada aimed the boat at the cliff and pulled up beside it.

"Suffice it to say I have a soft spot for strong women. And less tolerance for the bullshit of dressing us like fuck puppets to appease some man's perverted notion of a sacrifice…"

They held gazes. Ada added, "I assume they were going to offer her up to Saddler right?"

"….looks that way."

"Ah. Me as well. They got neither of us. Which means she escaped. Strong needs rewarded. She protected you when you were down. Fiercely. That kind of loyalty is admirable. And better understood than you would think. Tell her…I said I was sorry for before. And I was wrong."

From Ada Wong, that was practically like a hug.

Leon gripped the wheel as she stood in the seat, grabbed her grappling gun from her hip and fired it up the mountain side. She glanced up at the craggy darkness and back at his face, "Pull it up starboard side over to the west of the island beneath the sunspear sculpture. There's a good cave for access there."

"Alright."

"Take care of her, Leon. And be careful. I'll see what I can do about that damn parasite in you."

They held looks for a long moment. "Ada…thank you."

With a wink, she hit the trigger and was zipped up the jagged cliff.

Jill was sound asleep on his lap.

He hated to wake her and tried to ease over into the driver's seat without doing so. She was boneless, implying she was OUT and he shifted smoothly enough. The boat was easy to control and moved fluidly in the ink dark waves.

His communicator signaled as he was guiding the boat through the dark toward the cave Ada had pointed out. Saddler's face emerged, grinning, "You survived."

Leon said quietly, "Salazar didn't. He died pissing and shitting himself on the floor of that pathetic excuse for a tower back there. You ready to do the same?"

"Perhaps you are disillusioned with overconfidence, my American friend. All because you killed my small-time subordinate."

"Was that a midget joke? Want to hear mine? The list is a little short though."

Saddler stared at him stoically.

"No? Salazar was your evil midget though. All he could do was "small" talk."

Saddler's left eye twitched a little.

"There's more where that came from, Saddler. Give me Ashley and the puns stop."

"Mr. Kennedy – your humor will be the death of you."

"Why didn't anyone like Salazar? Honestly? It's not like he ever really "looked down" on anyone."

Saddler shook his head, "Keep laughing. Will you laugh as you take his place?"

"Can't do it. Can't take his place. That's a "tall" order."

Saddler sighed loudly. "You are a fool. Writhe in my cage of torment, you idiot."

The transmission clicked off. The boat came to a smooth stop at the edge of the cave opening. Leon shifted and realized Jill was looking at him.

He smiled, gently. "Hey…"

She asked, softly, "Was that Saddler?"

"Yep. Taunting me, being diabolical, talking all devious…you know the type. Pissed about his dead friend Salazar."

Jill nodded sagely, "….I was gonna make another midget joke…but it came up short."

Leon's mouth twitched a little, "Oh yeah? I think Saddler was offended by my insults. All over something small…"

Jill's eyes flared and her lips turned up into a grin, "I don't think our opinions of Salazar could get any lower…"

Lord.

It was too much.

Leon licked his teeth and mused, "….Jill, I think these jokes are below the belt a—"

She burst out laughing and hugged him so tight it stole his breath. He tucked her in and shifted her closer. The laughter was good. It felt almost as good as just sitting there, for a moment, holding her.

Against his neck, Jill murmured, "You are so dumb."

He chuckled, unoffended, "Cuts both ways, Valentine. Midget puns are rude and disrespectful."

"Pfft. Salazar was an asshole. I'll make all the short jokes I want about him."

He shifted. Her nightie shifted with him. And he could glimpse the curve of her bottom.

His body reacted. He tried to shift her off him before she realized it but her hip brushed his lap as she did. Her face flushed, his did too, and he cleared his throat, "….there's…in the box back there…Ada left clothes for you and said she was sorry for before."

His voice was hoarse.

It stole her breath. She should get off him. Last time, he'd put his hands around her throat choked her nearly to death. She'd had to hurt him. How stupid was it to stay there on his lap?

His heart was hammering behind his chest. He was nervous. His hands were clenched beside his hips. He wasn't touching her.

But he was kinda touching her.

Because the heat of him was hard against her hip.

She should get up.

She rubbed her hip against him instead. Torturing them both. He looked pained by it.

"...you should...you should get up, Jill. Now. Ok? Now."

"...ok just...just...a second here..." She shifted and slid over him. He made a small sound and let her. Her little butt rubbed at his groin where she was curled over his lap like a filthy Santa Claus. Her hands pulled his face to hers to nuzzle at his mouth.

But his whisper was quiet in the dark, "Don't, Jill. It's a bad idea."

"I know that. I know it. Maybe I'm the one who's dumb."

"...fuck." Her hands cupped his face and brought their mouths together. The kiss was wet. It was nearly impossibly wet.

He still hadn't moved his hands. What had he said before? I won't touch you, he said, I won't risk you to get my rocks off. She admired the self control. Clearly she had none.

And she whispered, "Please...just one ok? One."

She felt him relent. His mouth opened and took her tongue. She took his back in a wet thrill of hunger. Somebody moaned. Someone groaned. Somebody gasped.

And, still, he didn't touch her.

Impressed, she drew back to look at his face. The torment on her hurt him. Eyes closed, head back, mouth rosy...he looked so tortured. She was HURTING him by staying on his lap. She wanted to open his pants, mount him, and fuck him. She knew what happened if they did. He'd turn, he'd die, she'd lose him...all because she couldn't keep her fucking hands off him like some rapist.

He was trying so hard here and she was ruining it. Risking him. For what? A few minutes of a good tongue fucking? Really?

She was the dumb one indeed.

She slid off his lap with a small sound of regret.

Leon took two shaky breaths as she did, figuring NOT touching her hand earned him a special place in heaven. He stared at the circle of the moon on the shimmering water and said, "I love you, Jill."

Jill glanced at him in surprise but moved to the box. The first time he'd said it unprompted. It felt like a victory somehow. She answered, quietly, "I love you, Leon. Are you mad at me?"

He turned away, climbing up to anchor the boat against the rocks while she changed. He shook his head, watching the cave around them like a hawk. "Not you. Never. Me? A little. The situation, definitely. I feel like a fucking asshole. Like I used you back there."

"You didn't use me."

He said nothing.

She avowed, steadily, "You didn't use me, Leon. We had each other. Don't do that. Don't sell it short. Don't. Please."

He shifted where he stood. Behind him, she was all smooth skin and need. He ACHED to touch her. And hated that he couldn't.

To fill the silence, both aware she was naked and pained by it, Jill admitted, softly, "….I lied."

Leon shifted, glancing down the tunnel into the dark. He could hear the buzz of electricity somewhere in the dark, implying power was supplied to the island. The approach in the dark had shown the island ripe with some kind of temple or structure in the middle of a bunch of sunspears. What was the purpose? Solar power? He made sure the area was clear of hostiles while she disrobed and dug out the clothes Ada had left.

He glanced over his shoulder at her as she spoke.

The moonlight spilled over the naked side of her breast, it caught the curve of her hip and the swell of her thighs. Shifting, rearranging himself, he ground his teeth a little, "About what?"

"About…being a virgin."

Leon gave up on pretending he wasn't paying attention to her.

He turned back to face her.

She had slipped on a tight fitting pair of black leather pants. Her bare breasts were perfect and pale and pink tipped. Crossing his arms, Leon watched her dress.

Her eyes lifted like she felt him looking. Maybe she did. Hell, he could keep pretending he wasn't but what good did that do either of them?

The bra in her hands paused as she clasped it against her chest.

She whispered, quietly, "Aren't you going to turn away?"

He considered and went with truth, "No. You want me to?"

"….no." Jill did that thing girls were always so good at. She put the bra on backward and turned it around her torso. Her eyes never strayed from his. Not once. Not for a second. She breathed, "What are you thinking?"

Again, truth. It was their bread and butter here. "That I'm glad I'm the first man to touch you. That I can't figure out why I was. That I'd like to touch you now. And it scares me a little."

Jill nodded, tucking her breasts into the bra.

It felt like a small death somehow. He simultaneously mourned the nightie and was glad it was gone. Just like the sight of her breasts.

She slid on a black top and a vest, securing it over her slim torso.

It fit snuggly on her, probably because she was INFINITELY chestier than Ada on a good day.

And it left the most tantalizing spill of cleavage to the naked eye.

But at least she was covered.

Jill climbed up out of the boat, saying softly, "I was never concerned about it before. When I was younger, boys bored me. When I get to the academy, I was too driven. When Raccoon City happened, I was too dedicated. When I got to the BSAA, I had a reputation to maintain. Dating was boring. Men were pervy and either trying to save me or trying to fuck me so often I just…didn't bother."

She had a small pistol in her hands and a thigh holster wrapped at her thigh. What was that hairdo always reminding him of? And then it clicked: It was Princess Leia on Hoth. The braid, the tuck of it. Leia. Which explained his doubled desire to fuck her stupid.

Was there a dude his age that hadn't hungered for Princess Leia at one point?

Most likely not.

Jill said, softly, "It scares me too. I met you in Terragrigia…It was instant."

His hand slid down and cupped hers, fingers blending.

Just for a moment.

And he asked, "What was?"

Quietly, she responded, "The need. The need for you. Tell me I'm crazy about it. That you don't feel it too."

He glanced down at her face. Truth. It was all there was here.

"I feel it. I felt it. Never felt anything in my life like it before."

She nodded, gently, "I need this fucking thing out of you, Leon. I need it gone. Because I can't imagine what happens if you go down and I have to end you. I don't know how to be ok with that. I need you to survive. Please?"

Her voice caught, humbling him. He cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb over her skin. The ring of bruises on her neck hurt him.

She said it again, so softly, "Please? Don't die on me. I don't think I'll make it if you do."

He said nothing; he just turned her into his body to hold her. Just for moment. Just for a second. Just a brief breath of the dream that was each other.

Before their nightmare continued.

* * *

 _A/N: RIP SALAZAR. :P_


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N:** Brief acknowledgements here - _

_Diagonalpumpkin - I love your reviews. Keep them coming. You just throw it out there. And you want them to get some squishy love stuff on too! I can't blame you! They are stuck in the shittiest least sexiest crap fest. Enough fighting - bring on the romance!_

 _VValentine - Welcome aboard my weirdo ship. You are now in the twilight zone. I throw Jill everywhere. In 6 with Leon in Ground Zero, in Vendetta, in RE7 with the whole crew. I just stick folks wherever I want. The magic of me. Haha. As for Ashley, she is charming, funny, mouthy and witty here. Why? Because she is so awful in the game. Terrible. A breast bouncing nightmare that we run around with constantly shouting - "You BIMBO! Stop screaming for help, pick up a weapon, and kill something!" Here in lies Ashley's redemption!_

 _Let's get this crazy kids somewhere so they can horizontal mambo. They deserve it!_

* * *

 **XVI: Regenerator – Reanimator – Really Bad Night**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

* * *

They cool cave was damp. It was claustrophobically narrow. It was so quiet.

And quiet was never, ever, ever good.

The water made crushing slaps against the craggy rocks beneath them. The island wasn't anything like the one where they'd met. It wasn't warm. It wasn't exciting. It wasn't friendly.

There was no excitement of wanting each other and flirting and love here.

None.

Just fear. And cold. And tired hands and heads and hearts.

He kept his weapon in his hand. She kept the shotgun in hers. He was a little dizzy, which worried him. He figured he'd need a hit of the suppression drug soon. He was a little worried about how little was left. If he found Ashley, she was further down the rabbit hole, what if he had none left for her?

His brain said: You don't even know how the fuck to get it out. So who cares?

A good point.

He didn't even think they'd find Ashley anywa-

"LEON! JILL! LEON! JILL!"

So maybe that was Ashley...or the world's most annoyingly high pitched parrot. Because she just kept shouting their names.

Jill opened her mouth to answer and Leon tucked her against his chest, shaking his head, and holding her mouth. Against her ear, he commanded, "Look. Look with your eyes. Look with your ears. Look with your training. Tell me what you see."

The small jump to the other side of the opening where they stood was met by an encampment of sorts. It was dilapidated buildings and tumbling structures of stone. It was a fortress built into a mountain with sunspire towers and clearly what were solar refractory repositories atop them. The place looked empty.

And Ashley was being dragged through an enormous set of doors by a huge man in a steel mask and armor. She was beating on his back and screaming, "LET ME GO YOU FAT SACK OF SHIT! LEON! JILL! I'M OVER HERE! I'M OVER HE-"

The doors sealed her away.

Smart little thing. She was calling for them in case they were searching and close by. It would allow them to pinpoint her position. Leon smirked a little, "Clever girl."

Jill was scanning the compound. She was still against his front. He hadn't shifted her. She hadn't moved. But the angle of her against his chest had him looking right down into her ample cleavage.

Sweet lord in heaven high on crack, he thought, she had big boobs. Playboy big. Put your face in them and motorboat big. He pictured himself doing it and made himself laugh.

She glanced up at him, eyebrow lifted. He still had her mouth covered.

Dropping his hand, he grinned a little, "Sorry. Stupid boy shit. I can see down your top."

Her face was droll.

Sheepish, he shrugged, "I'm infected, not dead, Jill. I can't help it."

She wanted him to stick his smirking face in her boobs. Because she did, she pulled away.

She said, quietly, "Take out the lights."

Curious, he lifted a brow.

"Can you?"

A hard question. The first one was easy. The second was at least eight hundred yards away. It was cold. It was foggy. It was dark and windy. It was snapping with lightning and obscured by buildings.

It was a hard shot, no lie there.

Jill said, "We're talking about twenty hostiles here. Easy."

Curious, he glanced at her face. "Show me."

And she did. She signaled and spoke, no bullshit. "Six tucked under the rise. Three at the back corner. Someone or something with shock rods in the tunnel, look at the flashes of light. Four in that building beneath the spotlight. Seven more scattered over the grounds. The back side? I can't even begin to guess.'

Clever thing.

She wasn't just big boobs and beautiful eyes. Although the boobs were certainly keeping his focus.

Leon picked off the first light with a tinkle of glass and darkness. He said, "Brace my wrists."

Jill ducked under his arms. She let him settle his forearms on her shoulders. He shifted, adjusted, studied - and leaned closer to her. She watched his face while he considered wind speed, velocity, trajectory of the bullet and mitigating factors. After a long moment, she said, "Chris could hit it. I watched him hit a man at a thousand yards once."

His eyes shifted to hers. "He was still right?"

"Nope. Ducking and running...in the snow. On a windy day."

His mouth twitched. She glanced at it. He glanced at hers. "Hmm. Brat."

"I have my moments."

He leaned a little bit. She slid her hands over his warm forearms and braced them. Her nails stroked his skin, lightly. His mouth shifted, hovered at hers. She pressed their lips together, softly, and the gun went off - making her jump. He wasn't even looking. He wasn't looking at the target. He was looking at her.

She heard the tinkle of breaking glass and the darkness spilled long and thick around them.

In the murky moonlight, his eyes were silver. "...bingo."

Her hands slid up his arms and over his back. "Hotshot."

"Looks that way."

Grinning, Jill ducked under his arms. He laughed as she smacked his ass.

"For the record," He picked up the shotgun she'd set down and handed it to her. "The longest record pistol shot is only a thousand yards. Pretty sure it wasn't Chris Redfield."

Jill shrugged. She paused as she passed him and taunted, by his ear, "Exactly. RECORDED. Nobody bothered that day."

Adoring her, he followed her over the divide to the ramshackle encampment. She didn't need to be told to stay silent or stick close. They moved swiftly, angling in shadows, slipping between buildings.

The door where Ashley had gone was locked tight. There was a small depression on the doors, signaling the need for some kind of key. A disk, most likely, like the village gates required.

Jill said, quietly, "We should split up and find the disks."

Leon shook his head, "Not discs. Sunlight."

She lifted a brow. He signaled with his finger, "It's a solar panel. It needs sunlight."

Jill glanced at the sky with a frown. "It's the middle of the night."

He smiled, indulgingly, "True. But see those?" He gesutred to the weird statues on top of two of the buildings, "Those are for channeling sunlight."

"Ok..."

"Watch." He pressed the plate beside the door and a small light hummed and fired up above him. It shot out into the dark, struck the side of the light repository and skimmed off into the darkness.

Jill made a sound of understanding, "Ok. Gotcha. Feed the light this way, open the door."

"Precisely." He shifted, "I think we'll need to turn that first one right about twenty five degrees. And that one over there? Toward this one about sixty degrees. The path should hit this door right on."

He glanced down at her when she said nothing.

She was watching his face.

"What?"

Tilting her head like a dog, she mused, "You're fucking smart."

Leon laughed, lightly. "Not about some things. About math? Yeah. About girls? No."

Jill grinned a little, "Let's go, smart guy." She started forward and he shook his head at her.

"Wait here. Hit the switch when I turn them to make sure we're right." He moved off into the dark, leaving her standing there. Annoyed, Jill waited.

She crouched down and stayed quiet, watching the bodies milling around. She could hear their guttural Spanish. They were discussing something and laughing. It was DEFINITELY about Leon.

One of them said something about "corte su pene."

Jill twitched. She felt her teeth grind. She was pretty sure they were talking about cutting off his dick. Pretty sure. She was more than tired of these dirty bastards, that was for sure. And she'd be damned if anybody was cutting off his dick before she spent a week on top of it.

No. The universe couldn't be that damn cruel.

Jill glanced down the side where she was crouched. They were gathered in a small ground around a trashcan fire. She looked at the half broken rubble statue beside her. She considered it.

And then she put her shoulder to it, grunted a little, and pushed it over the edge.

The heavy stone tumbled. They didn't even see it coming. She heard it crash, heard the gurgling. And then silence.

It was a good feeling.

A short whistle drew her attention. Leon was ready.

She hit the button on the wall.

The hum of electricity threw fire at him. It hit the refractory and threw light in a sharp line. It struck the door beside her and activated the mechanism.

The doors clicked open and she cleared through them, finding the inside of a gross warehouse of some kind. It was riddled with old rotting food and filth. It was piled with boxes of random crap.

Jill was poking through one when Leon joined her, closing the door they'd come through quietly.

She lifted a notebook and flipped pages. It was dingy. It was blood stained. It was familiar handwriting which is what paused her.

Because it belonged to Luis Sera.

She skimmed it, absorbing information.

Aloud, she intoned, "The Regenerator seems invinceable. It has an attachment to the host parasite that allows it to reform and reknit injury and loss of limb. It seems to be the perfect weapon with the ability to use its bones as spikes, jutting and jabbing its opponent and prey and binding them to it such as a porcupine."

Leon lifted both brows. Jill looked at him owlishly and then read on, "The only weakness of the Regenerator lies in its intense bonding to the parasite. Using thermal imaging to penetrate the shell of the infected host, locating the parasites is seamless. Destruction of the multiple hot spots guarantees destruction."

She looked at Leon again. "You have any thermal imaging on you?"

Seeming to consider this, Leon speculated, "Is that like gaydar?"

Amused, Jill twitched her mouth, "Not exactly."

He grinned and winked a little, "I'm guessing we want to find some thermal imaging, quickly."

"You got that right."

They shifted into a small room….and heard Ashley shouting. "LEON! LEON!"

Jill glanced at his face. He signaled for silence and they ducked around the corner into the open space. No Ashley. Not luck there.

Just a row of unmanned monitors showing her in a cage somewhere surrounded by bad guys.

She was slapping the doors and shouting.

One of the men grabbed her and threw her to the floor. She hit, sneered, and shouted at him, "PIG! Keep your hands off me!"

Leon was glancing amongst the monitors, trying to pinpoint where she was in the building. Jill kept her eyes on the screen even as the man above Ashley grabbed her sweater and jerked her to her knees.

Jill whispered, softly, "Don't."

But it didn't matter.

He slapped the girl three times while she struggled, screaming at him. First forehand, then backhand, then open hand on the mouth until she fell again to the floor scrambling.

The man glanced up at the camera watching them. He spit on Ashley and smeared it around on her face, shoving her to the floor. He gave the middle finger to the camera and the screen went dark. It crackled and was silent.

Jill spit, furiously, "BASTARD!"

Leon touched her elbow, softly, "We'll find her. They're amateurs, Jill. I can track them with their own cameras."

"That bastard…the way he was looking at her…" She grabbed his arm. He looked at her face while he tapped keys and input commands. "Leon…we have to hurry. The way he touched her…"

She couldn't bring herself to say it. But the implication was out there.

Either Ashley was in mortal danger or she was in physical danger. The nasty man touching her was either going to beat her or rape her or both. They were running out of time.

Leon shifted back to working swiftly, "I'll cut his dick off for touching her."

Jill whispered, " _Corte su pene_ …"

Leon glanced at her face, "Yeah. Exactly."

A bleep showed a red dot on the monitor. It signaled a schematic of the building. Looking at it, she watched him study it and memorize it: click. Photographic memory.

They ran through the far door and down a flight of stairs. Jill jacked a round into the shotgun and they spilled into a freezing cold chamber. It was startling.

The chill was imminent. It went right into your bones. It plumed out of your mouth in a fine cloud.

Leon was just standing there beside her, staring. She glanced at his face and then toward where he was looking.

The wrecked room was a lab of some kind. It was in disrepair, destroyed and over turned, beds and beakers spilled and broken. But what lay on the table beyond the glass partition in front of them was the worst part.

It might have been a naked headed gray man. If it wasn't something uglier and more disgusting. It had fat and hands and a face. It had features. It was just lying there like it was sleeping.

Leon kept staring at it.

Jill moved to look in the next room over. There one of those horrid spider Alien bugs was frozen in death, suspended above a body it had been attempting to implant. It was in mid implantation. The body on the table beneath it was half ripped open and fighting. The face was stuck in a silent scream. Congealed and frozen blood lay in cubes and droplets around the horrible tableau.

On the table beside the bed, a small key card waited.

Jill eased into the room, kept the shotgun on the frozen horror show, and picked up the keycard. But nothing moved. It was all just…frozen. Frozen and terrifying.

She backed out of the room, shaking a little.

Leon wasn't standing where she'd left him. Concerned, she turned to find him in the room with the dead thing on the table. He was digging in a small cabinet.

Jill eased into the room, keeping her shotgun on the table. He emerged with several bottles of medicine and a small backpack. He passed the pack to Jill and she strung it on her back while he filled it with pills and salves and bandages. There was a box of shotgun shells over turned at the bottom of the cabinet that he put in the bag as well.

A loose handful of Magnum rounds were rolling in a drawer beside the bed. He palmed them and refilled his empty magazine. Musing, he asked, "Any luck on the thermal imaging idea?"

Jill shook her head. The thing on the bed was still dead.

She lowered the shotgun and turned to face him. "Honestly? Where would you even begin looking for something like that?"

He rose from digging in a low drawer, "There's probably some kind of central weapons supply here. The schematic looked to me like a military surplus here. Something like a warehouse and a prison on the back end. Maybe a series of underground tunnels for evacuation. It's pretty well designed for protection, to be honest."

Jill nodded shifting to check through the drawers beside the door, "Again, we're assuming these guys think like humans, Leon. Humans would rationalize keeping thermal imaging on hand for the Regenerators Sera mentions. But they aren't human. Maybe there's nothing and we're on our own."

Jill turned back with her hands full of boxes of ammo, a literal gold mine stuffed in locked drawer. As if there was a lock alive that could withstand her anyway.

He was crouched on the floor sifting through a cabinet.

The thing on the bed was standing a foot behind him.

She didn't think. She didn't do anything but panic. She threw the boxes of ammo like grenades at it.

And Jill screamed.

"LEON! RUN!"

The 9mm shells smacked musically against the graying flesh. It jerked in surprise and made some kind of warble. It shivered like it had hypothermia and jerked spastically as it moved. Leon was too fucking slow.

It grabbed him by the throat and lifted him, he managed to jab his knife in its face as it opened jaws filled with thousands of nasty teeth.

Jill swung the shotgun up and blasted it.

And it threw him out the window.

He went through the glass partition like it was nothing. The glass shattered around him in shards and noise. Jill shouted again and shot the shaking thing for good measure.

The heavy round blew a hole in it twice. First where she'd blown open its chest and again where she blew off its leg. The thigh was obliterated and it fell to its face on the floor.

It didn't care.

It flopped at her so fast that she had to backpedal to avoid it grabbing her ankles. She scrambled, tripped, and fell into a cart. It over turned and Jill went to the floor while it flopped atop her.

She screamed in earnest now, high pitched and scared.

It was a girl scream, no getting around that.

The thing on her tried to eat her face. Rabid like a dog, starving and mad, it gargled and snarled and snapped. She shoved a rolled up towel from the floor into its face and saved herself from instant death.

It savaged the towel, grabbing her with its hands to jerk her around and smash her into the floor.

Strong.

MONSTER strong.

The shotgun was wedged under her back and the floor. She grabbed for anything to use as a weapon and found a pair of scissors. It bit through the towel and went for her face. She shoved the scissors up under its jaw and wedged its mouth shut when they popped through the top of its head.

Its hand shifted around her throat and squeezed, shaking her, smacking her into the floor. Jill screamed desperately and fought, humping her hips and kicking. She slapped and shoved.

And the leg was done reknitting on the damn thing.

Regenrator indeed. It regrew its own thigh in a handful of seconds.

It rose, dangling her. It ripped the shotgun off her back and threw it away.

It added her to the tossing, throwing her like she was nothing. She went through the curtain and smashed into the bed where it had laid. The bed over turned, spilling her to the floor. She kicked the whole bed at it as it raced at her. It was knocked askew as Jill rolled along the messy floor and tried to get to her feet.

The thing jerked the scissors from its face and freed its mouth.

It roared at her, Jill scrambled and grabbed the stool by the counter, and it grabbed her again. She swung back like a heavy batter aiming for a homerun, broadsided it with a scream of rage and power, and sent it staggering into the wall. It kept on coming anyway.

She ran for the shotgun across the room.

She was almost there and it got two handfuls of her hair. It lifted her off the ground by it, dangling her whiles he kicked and screamed. Her scalp was on fire, her throat was on fire from the choking, her body was burning with pain from being tossed around like a dog toy. She felt the fetid heat of its breath on her neck as it opened its jaw to take a huge bite out of her throat and she punched it clean in the chest and kicked it in its sexless groin.

It lowered her down in surprise and angled for a better bite. Jill throat punched it and it dove for her face.

She threw up her arms to block it and the world went red with blood.

It erupted in a heavy hot rain. It was thick and red and splattering. She went to the floor while it showered her in red. She heard that weird gurgling snarfle it liked to make and felt it reach for her again. The boom was loud this time when she wasn't screaming.

It was thrown backward onto the over turned table. It flipped back and was still.

Jill lay on her back for a long moment, breathing.

The tinkle of broken glass and crunch of it beneath boots drew her eyes open. He had a huge rifle looped over his shoulder and was kneeling beside her.

"Jesus wept, Jill! My fucking heart. I think it stopped."

His voice was shaking. His hand shook a little as he helped her up, checking her for wounds.

He'd, literally, just saved her life in the nick of time. He smeared the blood off her face to see her, and she whispered, "So did mine, the first time I saw you."

Lord. Firs she stopped his damn heart, then she stole it.

He kissed her through the blood.

Her hands wrapped around his wrists and held him there for a long moment.

They separated, both flush with need. Jill whispered, "You trying to make us even?"

He laughed, shakily. The thing on the floor had nearly eaten her. Jesus. He'd stood outside that window and felt fear like nothing he'd ever known. This damn mission was going to kill them both. Not from bad guys. From each other. The need to keep her safe was painful.

They kept risking themselves to save each other.

That's what love was, he mused, it was risking everything for the person who mattered most.

"Never be even, kid. You saved me from death how often here? Let's just be fucking glad we have each other."

And again, she whispered, "I'm glad I have you. I'd like to have more of you."

She took the towel he handed her to wipe herself free of blood.

They eased back into the main hallway. They were both quiet. The danger was immense, it had been since the beginning, but they were playing fast and loose with their own safety. That was one thing. But the risk of playing that game with each other was wearing thin.

It was rapidly becoming apparent that the depth of need here was endless.

It was flirting in the sunlight, sure. And laughing and groping in the dark.

But it was so much more than that.

He was on the edge. She knew that. He was feverish and dizzy. He was a little shaky. He moved like he was ill. His reaction time was lagging. He hadn't even heard the damn thing that came up behind him. And he was better than that.

They needed to get the fucking parasite out of him. Quickly. She didn't know how long he had left. But it couldn't be long.

She glanced at him as they rounded the corner. He was sweaty, clammy. A fine sheen was on his upper lip and forehead. She said, softly, "Take the drugs, Leon. Now."

He shook his head, shivering. "What if Ashley needs them? I'll be ok."

Jill grabbed his arm, holding him still. She implored, desperately, "If you turn, who will help her? And me? If you weren't there, I'd be dead right now. We need you. I need you. Please. Take the drugs. Right now? You're more important than Ashley Graham."

He looked down at her, quietly. "She's the objective here, Jill. She's my objective."

Jill held his look, coolly. "She'll die if you don't take care of yourself. I can't do this without you. Please. Put aside that I'm trying to selfishly keep you with me. Put that away. Look at it objectively – you're a better shot than me. You're better with directions and improvisation. I need you. Help me. Take the pills."

He said nothing. He just dropped his hand into his pocket and brought out the little pills.

He took one and swallowed it dry.

Jill nodded a little, breathing shakily. "Thank you. Thank you. I mean it."

Leon said nothing. They just eased forward and down the narrow hallway. Jill could hear the men close by laughing and colluding. One was saying something about _mamada._ Her limited Spanish was still enough to tell her that they were talking about Ashley and blowjobs.

There were two men standing guard outside of Ashley's prison. They were huge, at least seven feet tall and hulking with muscle. They wore armor in breastplates and half mail on their huge torsos. Their faces were obscured with metal masks.

They were each holding a flail in their huge hands.

Leon swung the heavy rifle to his shoulder and braced his legs. Jill palmed the shotgun, covering him.

The head of the first one exploded in a red wash.

The second came at them in the middle of the madness that ensued. He raced up the stairs, roaring, and Leon put him down with another clean shot to the face. The door behind them was kicked open and two men with shock rods and gas masks emerged, twirling the sparking batons in their hands and cursing in mechanical sounding Spanish.

The first one through got a shotgun blast to the face and chest.

He went down on his back, missing half his face and shoulder.

The second one met Leon's leg sweep, stumbled into the wall, and Leon jerked the rod from his hands. He shouted and grabbed for the former rookie, got a punch to the face for his efforts, and Leon drove the shock rod into his chest. It clapped. It slapped. It sounded like lightning and crackled like a finger in a socket.

The body jumped and flopped, Leon kicked him in the stomach and back through the door, and the door swung shut.

Leon twirled the rod in his hands with a smile. "Fun."

Jill laughed lightly. "Lightning in a stick, huh?"

He grinned at her. "Powerful rod of death make man strong."

Even the stupid caveman accent worked on him. She adored him.

They eased down to the prison door. It was quiet in the room. Leon covered them while Jill picked the lock and pushed in the door gently.

Ashley was tied up and on her belly, slung over a big crate. The backs of her thighs were blistered and bruised. She was shaking and gagged.

Jill felt the first real quiver of rage. She ran forward, unbinding her hands. The girl rolled into her arms easily. They clung, Ashley shaking madly.

The girl said, "Jill…I didn't think you'd come for me. I thought I was dead. I don't want to die here, in this place. I'm not ready. I'm not _ready._ "

And she fell against the other woman, weeping wildly.

Leon stood in the doorway, watching them.

Jill didn't think she'd ever seen that look on his face.

There was a tremor of something scary on him now. It was vengeance laced with purpose. He spoke into the silence, startling them both where they clung.

"I'm gonna enjoying the hell outta killing Osmond Saddler."

Jill watched his face but whispered to the girl who cuddled against her, trembling. "How bad was it?"

Ashley wiped at her tear wet cheeks, angry now. "Perverts. Bastards. They poked at me. The looked. They kept spanking me with those damn stun rods. I don't know if they were going to rape me. They seemed to enjoy my screaming more than anything."

Jill was treating the backs of her thighs with salve and bandages. Ashley jerked, hissing with pain. "How bad?"

Jill rubbed her arm, gently, "Superficial. Painful but it won't scare, Ashley. I'm so sorry. We should have moved faster."

Ashley shook her head and took the heavy coat hanging on the wall. She slid it on, cuddling it around her cold body. "Don't do that. Don't. This isn't on you. This is my fault. I wouldn't listen. I kept shouting and fighting back. They shut me up and hurt me. It's my fault."

Leon shook his head, laughing derisively, "This isn't your fault, sweetheart. Not even a little. It's theirs. I'm gonna fuck them to death with this damn stun rod. I promise you that."

He turned out of the room and Ashley watched Jill for a moment. Finally, she said, "He seems off. You guys ok?"

Jill put her arm around the girl and hugged her, "We're ok. Salazar is toast, the little worm. But the parasite is hurting him, badly. How are you?"

Ashley shifted a little, "I'm ok actually. I heard them talking about it. It feeds on adrenaline or intense emotion, it helps bond it to the host. I'm betting the ass kicking and anger are making him the prefect food."

Jill stroked her soft hair and let her go. And Ashley added, "That and wanting to fuck your brains out probably isn't helping."

God, the guilt. It was going to eat her alive.

Ashley patted her arm. "It's not your fault, Jill. He's right about that. Let's get out of here and you two can fuck like bunnies and make adorable blue eyed babies that make bad puns."

Jill opened her mouth to say something and a small paper airplane whirled in the tiny window beside them. It settled on the floor at their feet.

Ashley picked it up, brows raised. She read it aloud, "In case you haven't thought of it, you can use the waste vent to escape. Don't be disheartened. Don't relent. There is hope yet. Keep pushing on. I will help you all I can. –A."

She met Jill's eyes. "Who's A? Like _Pretty Little Liars_ or what?"

Jill laughed a little.

Ashley studied the letter a little. "There's a kiss mark on it. Who is this chic?"

Jill sighed, guiding her toward the door. "Long story. She's on our side – kinda."

They emerged into the hallway, following Leon to the end of it. He was in a small over hang where a massive crane was waiting above the waste vent mentioned in the letter.

Ashley moved forward to touch the controls, curiously.

Jill touched his arm and found him trembling. She lowered her voice and said, gently, "She's ok. They didn't rape her. She's scared but surviving. Don't. Don't let her see you like this. Make a joke, Leon. Please. You show her your dark side too much, you'll scare her to death and make this harder. Make light. Make a pun. Ease back."

Ashley turned back to them, looking small and pale in the big coat she wore. "It smells like fart and old mildew in here."

Leon said, without missing a beat, "It's the garbage chute. Talking about being down in the dumps."

Ashley blinked.

Jill stroked his arm, just enough to be a silent thank you.

And Ashley returned, "Chute…I had a good throw away pun of my own…but it was rubbish."

Horrible.

Awful.

Terrible.

And it broke the painful tension like a whoopee cushion tossed between them.

Jill shook her head, "This is the trashiest conversation we've had all night. All recycled jokes."

Ashley laughed, covering her mouth a little. Her eyes twinkled, "We're just standing here talking about junk."

Leon shook his head, smirking. "You two need better material. What a waste of time. Can it, and let's get going."

He moved beyond the vestibule where they stood, descending the stairs.

Jill watched him, grateful. He was something. Ashley watched Jill watch Leon.

She spoke, gently, "Damn, girl. When'd you start loving the piece of ass?"

Jill blushed, pink and sighing, "I don't know, honestly. Somewhere after the eightieth pun, he got in a little."

"He's smoking hot, Jill. He looks like a fuck toy, he talks like a nerd, and he fights like a gladiator…you won't catch any judgement from this girl on it. I just…" They paused on the stairs. Ashley seemed to be considering things. Jill touched her arm, concerned. And finally Ashley said, "I just need you to promise me if it doesn't work out, that you'll let me have him, Jill. I mean it. I'll feed him and take him on walks. I'll let him pun. But I don't think he should be released back in the wild, it's cruel. He'll pun on everything. He'll throw his hotness on unsuspecting bitches and have them slobbering all over him. He'll make bad jokes and start bar fights. I need to keep him safe, Jill. It's for his own good."

Jill's eyes twinkled at her.

Ashley grinned, wide and happy.

"Be fair, spill the beans, you hit it and quit it yet or what?"

Leon was waiting by the edge of the chute, looking down into the dark.

Jill glanced at him, sighing. "Not nearly enough."

Ashley hooted and had him looking up. He narrowed his eyes at them. He was pretty sure they were doing that girl thing again where they were talking about him.

Under his breath, he muttered, "…women."

Ashley murmured quietly, "He as good as he looks?"

Sighing heavily, Jill mumbled back, "Better. He fucks like he puns."

Ashley's brow shot up, her eyes turned huge as dinner plates, "Oh, oh oh oh. Fast, hard, and mercilessly?"

Jill's face flamed. It split into a big grin. And Ashley grabbed her chest like she'd die and fall over. She staggered. She stumbled. Jill laughed loudly.

And Leon called, "Hey! You ok?"

Ashley pointed at him and exclaimed, "My heart is broken with jealousy. But I'll live. It's not mortal, apparently, just shitty. I have just one question for you, hot stuff."

Leon lifted a brow, chuckling a little, "What's that?"

"Do you…have a brother?"

He opened his mouth to retort and a loud warbling snarfle sounded above them.

One of the regenerators was in the vestibule where they'd been.

Leon grabbed her arm instead. Ashley grabbed her other one.

And he sighed, "Well…no other choice right? This _stinks."_

And they jumped into the garbage chute laughing.


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N:** Some hateful asshole remarked my Leon jokes too much. HA! He jokes entirely too much. It's his curse on the world. The puns are his coping mechanism! You leave him alone hateful trolls! Additionally - I never post up hateful flamers. Only constructive critiques and fun comments. This is such a fun story. Let's not kill it with flamers. I have lots of other stories in the works. This one? All flirting and fun and 4! With JILL. whoooo!_

* * *

 **XVII: Down the Rabbit Hole**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

It stunk in the garbage chute, putting it mildly. It smelled...like ass and old moldy pizza. When Ashley landed, it made a farting splat sound. When Leon landed it made a plopping squish. When Jill landed, she rolled into something sticky and slimy, and it made a crunching squelch.

Ashley spoke first into the silence, "Oh dear gawd - I have never been more disgusted in my life. Am I sitting in poop!?"

Leon quirked a smile and glanced over.

He wasn't 100% sure. But it looked, indeed, like poop.

Ashley kinda squeaked and shouted at the same time, "Who SHITS DOWN A GARBAGE CHUTE!?"

Jill was stuck. It took her moment to realize she was, literally, stuck where she lay.

It was worse than that.

She was stuck like glue to a Regenerator...Reanimator...whatever they were.

She spoke softly but with feeling, "Leon?"

He helped Ashley up but kept her far away while she stared in horror at the poop on her coat.

Turning back, he was still grinning - and then he wasn't grinning at all. He spoke, so quietly, "Ashley - hush."

"What? Why?" She eye balled him with irritation, and then shifted to see Jill. Her heart stopped. Her faced paled, "What the hell is that!?" A hiss of horror.

Leon said nothing, he put a hand on Jill's arm and tugged, so slowly.

She squelched like an armpit fart as he pulled her free. The thing was dead...maybe. It was lying on its back with its fat gray belly poking up and its sexless groin two inches from Jill's face. It had flaccid spikes all over it, making it somehow more horrifying than its ugly brother Leon had killed in the lab.

Leon pulled her free and set her behind him. They all backed up slowly.

But it didn't move.

Ashley dropped the shit covered coat on the ground and they moved into the next chamber.

It was a series of walkways littered with garbage containers.

It smelled worse than rotten bodies left too long in the sun.

Jill eased into the first opening and there was a sound from where they'd come. They turned, Ashley squeaked, and Leon raised the rifle. He commanded them, calm but loud, "Go! Now. Go now! Hide. Jill."

A single word but she knew what he wanted. She grabbed Ashley to push her forward into a run.

They didn't look back.

The heavy slug struck loudly, the rifle echoed in the dirty chamber. It was all steel and stone and concrete down here. And filthy, stank, rank and fetid stagnant water.

Jill guided Ashley into the first chamber they found. A big room with an enormous wrecking ball over a firey pit.

Curious they both studied the pit.

It was rolling lava.

Jill inquired, "Trash burning?"

Ashley shrugged, "Maybe it's for bathing for those freaks out there."

Jill went to quip something clever and the guttural Spanish filled her ears.

She turned, slowly, and the room was filling with ganados. They poured out of side doors, they emerged from the shadows like spawns of the devil. Jill moved to back up and Leon bumped into her.

He glanced at the small booth beside them. It was overlooking the pit.

Without a word, Jill and Ashley ran up the three stairs into the booth. Jill saw the lever, wasted no time and instructed, "Ashley - pull it."

Ashley went for the lever and Jill covered her. She shot the first guy through the door in the face. Leon covered the other entrance. It wasn't a bad place to stand off.

They had both sides covered.

Leon shot one in the eye and drawled, "One. Two. Three." Counting as he picked them off.

Jill arched her brows, the heavy wrecking ball swung and smashed into the half covered wall across from it. The wall shuddered and broke apart, revealing the door beyond it. It also knocked around bad guys like bowling pins. They went into the lava. They scattered and splattered. They screeched and fell.

And Jill counted off, "Six...eight...eleven..."

Leon laughed, lightly, "Slow poke. A sad showing, Valentine. That's seventeen for this guy."

Ashley rolled her eyes. She mouthed, "Piece of ass, full of shit."

Jill grinned, delighted.

Leon counted, "Twenty..."

And Ashley pulled the lever again as the ball swung back into place. She turned a little, Jill announced, "Fifteen..."

And Ashley Graham pantomimed humping Leon Kennedy while mouthing the number "21" at the same time he announced the same number of kills. She pretended to spank his ass and hammer him from behind.

Jill couldn't help it.

She tried. She did.

But the absolute sexism of it. The pure and unadulterated harassment it would be seen as if Leon was a woman...the pure humor on her face at doing it...it was too much.

Jill burst out laughing and couldn't stop.

She picked off bad guys hooting with laughter.

The ball hit the wall again and Leon glanced over his shoulder.

Ashley stood there sweetly, cowering a little like she was afraid. Taking sympathy on her, Leon said, "It's cold in here, but don't worry, we'll get you another coat."

Ashley nodded, smiling, "Thanks. Are we all clear?"

The wall was down. The bad guys were scattered around like mounds of dead flies.

The lava popped and hiss at it devoured the last few that had fallen into its depths.

Leon nodded and offered her a pill. Ashley took it and hurried to coat corpses. She was tallying them up as she walked.

Leon glanced at Jill as they moved after her. She was pink faced and smiling. He nudged her with his elbow and she glanced up at his face. Curious, he inquired, "What's so funny? Is it secret girl stuff?"

Jill touched his forearm, feeling the smooth skin there. It was so warm. And his eyes were bright with fever.

She was getting so worried about him. But he was trying so hard to stay humorous. Ashley was pulling out all the stops to stay funny.

It was best to keep it light.

She slid her thumb under the tight cuff of his shirt, stroking his biceps. "It was totally inappropriate, utterly demeaning, terribly objectifying chic stuff. We were...without a doubt...oogling you."

He grinned and volleyed his eyes over her face, "Fair trade. I've been oogling you since the moment we met."

Oh. She felt her heart stutter in a good. She looked at his mouth and had him doing the same.

And she said, "Yeah. That's what I want too. Bad timing on that deal. It usually ends with you in worse shape than I found you."

"Mmm." He leaned a little toward her. She thought WOOOOT and went up to let him, and he remarked, "You stink anyway."

She stopped. She blinked.

He winked and let go of her.

And she stood there feeling twin stabs of humor and remorse. Again, he was making light of it. But she was so hot for him it was making her stupid. How did she stop this? How did she put it away to keep him safe?

He bent down to divest one of the dead guys of his coat for Ashley.

And Jill watched his ass the whole time.

She wanted to run up behind him and hump on him like a horny little dog or something.

It was insane.

She pictured it and made herself laugh. She pictured him falling over as she humped him into the floor while he shouted and tried to fight back.

It was ridiculous.

And worked like a charm to switch off the lust for a little bit.

Ashley announced, "Sorry Jill. Clear victory here. Twenty-six to eighteen."  
Leon whooped and did a little jib with his tongue between his teeth. Jill watched him drolly. He two stepped pretty well and did the moonwalk backwards.

Ashley laughed with delight, "Dude! I like it. You can dance too huh?"

He shrugged a shoulder, winked at her, and moved to the exit door.

Ashley and Jill locked eyes and Ashley shook her head, "Girl - you screwed."

"I hear it. I know it. I feel it." Jill sighed as they followed Leon's still sort of dancing ass, "I wish I was feeling it more."

"Shit...me too. What's he look like in his pants?"

Jill sighed sadly, "I don't know honestly."

Ashley looked confused, "How is that possible?"

"It's a looooong story. It ends with alot of gasping and about two minutes that should have been ten days."

Ashley kept looking at her. There was more to the story here, clearly. She grabbed Jill's hand and held it, like girlfriends sharing gossip and taking a walk. She tugged her to a stop as Leon cleared into the next room and gave them a semblance of privacy.

Jill sighed a little again and looped fingers with her.

Ashley commanded, gently, "Spill it. What happened?"

And Jill told her. She just told her. She was tired of keeping it in, "I made him fuck me."

When she said it out loud, it sounded stupid.

It sounded so stupid.

But it's how she felt. Like she'd tricked him into and it had nearly killed him. Ashley lifted both brows, "Hold on a minute here...you claiming to have raped the piece of ass?"

Yep. It sounded stupid.

Jill shifted a little, "I was in this outfit they'd dressed me in. I had nothing on underneath. He tried to stop. I put my hand in his pants and told him to do it. He didn't want to but he did."

Ashley felt her face trapped in some look she was unsure of. She studied Jill to be sure she was serious. She blinked twice and a third time. And she said, "Jill...you can't be serious here. You think you made him do it?"  
"I think he wanted to stop and I just kinda...forced it. And then the parasite got him and he started choking me...it was a mess."

Ashley kept staring at her.

Jill stared back.

And finally Jill asked, with irritation, "What?! What's the look?"

"How many men have you known, girl?"

"Plenty. Why?"

"You standing here telling me you think you forced Leon Kennedy to fuck you?"

Jill shifted a little, pink cheeked, "When you put it that way - it sounds awful. And stupid. But...a little...yeah. I do."

"Girl - you dumb."

Jill looked droll now, "Gee, thanks doll. I appreciate the chic solidarity."

Ashley laughed and hugged her, "Sorry. I am. But he looks at you like food, Jill. Or like you're porn. Or like you're crack. He wants you so bad it smells like pheromones and sex all over the place when you two are around. I'm thinking? He LOVED that you stuck your hand in his pants and took away the "bad guy making a girl fuck in a sewer" guilt that he was rockin."

Jill sighed again but finally relented and smiled a little, "You think? It's haunting me thinking I used him."

OH.

Ashley loved this girl. She did. She was a bad ass. She as gorgeous. She was funny as hell and smart as whip. And boy stupid.

She was BOY STUPID.

Why?

Finally, Ashley queried, "Jill?"

"Yeah?"

"How many guys have you fucked?"

Jill shrugged and turned away, "I don't mess with guys. They're nothing but trouble on a good day. I flirt. I run away. I don't touch. But him? I can't stop!"

Ashley tugged her to a stop again, "Jill?"

"What?" It sounded defensive now.

"Was the piece of ass the first guy to fuck you?"

Jill said nothing. Ashley blinked again. She'd wondered. She'd seen the way Jill was when he was close. Admittedly, Leon jumped and blushed sometimes too. But this girl acted like a teenager with her first crush.

Why?

Unless he was, literally, her first crush.

Ashley gripped her hand and held it, "Jill - you good girl. You're making me feel like a whore. You love him. You touched him. You're worried he hated it. Welcome, darling, to what it means to be in a relationship. It only gets worse from here on out."

Jill laughed, lightly, and looped an arm over her shoulders. Ashley hugged her back. "Jill?"

"Hmm?"

"He's utterly adorable. He's hot as seven hells. He flirts and puns and makes you laugh when he'd rather be a rage filled bad ass. It's ok to love him. I can't think of anyone better. Only..." She sighed dramatically. "Can I love him too? It seems fair."

They turned the corner, laughing and happy. And there was an enormous car sitting there.

Although car was the wrong word. It was a CAT machine or something. It had a huge claw on the front end. Leon gestured, smiling.

"Bingo. Here's our new ride."

Ashley leaped up, grinning. She moved to the driver's seat with a saucy head toss. "I got this shit, kids. Watch and learn. Guard my rear, hotstuff. And grab it to hold when you get real scared."

She pronounced it "skirred". It was adorable.

Jill leaped up next to him and smiled. She kinda loved that girl. The engine turned over with a roar of noise.

And off they went in a rickety, rockety, sliding little journey down the ragged tunnel where they found themselves. A rumble sounded and they were lifted upward on a heavy machinery elevator to the main level of the fortress where they found themselves.

The cold seeped around them and the was ragged with clouds and lightning.

It smelled like winter and oil and gasoline. There was an acrid scent of burning metal and the promise of chemicals beneath.

They could hear Ashley whistling and singing up in the cab. Jill kept watch with Leon while trying to keep her feet. They were so quiet.

There was something so off here. Was it her? Was she the problem? Was it the parasite? Was it the entire thing with them? It was a messy situation, hands down, so there was that bad juju floating over them.

Jill said, softly, "You doin ok?"

He glanced at her, pale but smiling. "I'm ok. I think. My brains a little fuzzy, honestly. Like thinking with a hang over almost."

Jill petted his arm, feeling him. "You're burning up. And scaring me to death. Take another pill."

He shook his head, "Ashley needs them."

"Ashley is better off than you. Loads. You're getting worse faster than her. The parasite is bonding to you. Please. Please." Her voice cracked and startled him. He glanced away from his guard duty to her earnest face. The look of fear on her hurt him.

He intoned, with a core of steel, "Jill? I'm ok. I promise. I'm fine."

"You're not. Please." Her voice broke a little and her eyes misted, "Please. I'm not ready to put you in the ground. Not yet. I need you to stay with me. Take the pill."

"You're the strongest person I've ever met, Jill. You'll make it." He was back to watching the scaffolding and the walls for enemies.

She grabbed his chin and jerked it to her, startling him.

They held eyes, heatedly.

And she whispered, "I love you. I _love_ you. Take the fucking pill."

God.

What had happened here? The world was ajar and madness was seeping in. He poked a pill in his mouth without another word. Because he hated that look on her face. That fear. He hated it. I love you, she said, with more feeling than anyone in his life had ever said it to him.

She didn't even know his favorite color or his secret passion for bad hospital drama or his Star Wars obsession that ended in a collection of classic figurines on his mantle. She didn't know he had a fish named Poops-and-Eats and that once he'd pissed off the top of the Empire State Building to watch it fall.

She didn't know any of that.

But she loved him.

And he wanted the time to get to know her.

He wanted the time to touch her like he wanted and be inside her and watch her eyes when they joined and slid together in a bed somewhere that bad guys weren't trying to kill them. He wanted her.

He loved her.

And he didn't know a damn thing about her.

But he knew that.

He whispered, with feeling, "I won't leave you. You hear me? I won't abandon you here. Ever."

She put her forehead against his chest for just a flicker of a second and breathed, "Good. Than take the damn pills when I ask."

Fair enough.

He opened his mouth to say something clever and sweet and a man dropped down from nowhere. He landed on the cab by Ashley and grabbed for her hair. She shrieked. She spun the wheel. The big clawed machine corned and tried to flip.

Jill fell down and slid. Leon stumbled and smacked into the cab but grabbed the attacker at the same time. A car rounded the car, blowing its horn and headed straight at them. Ashley shouted in fear.

Jill grabbed for the man. Leon steadied and aimed at the driver of the other car.

He shot him clean in the forehead without a blink.

The car swerved and flipped sideways. It rolled right at them.

The man backhanded Jill so hard she was dumped backward on her ass.

With a roar of rage, Leon punched him so hard in the face it collapsed his teeth around his fist, and threw him off to be crushed by the tires and the machine ate through the wall beside them in a crunching, munching, enormous burst of noise and destruction. The car hit them. The world caught fire. And they were tossed around like tinker toys.

They all shouted. They all fell down.

Jill was thrown out of the machine and slid along the floor to smash into a far wall. Ashley fell over into the seat and missed losing her head to a jagged piece of wall by a breath. And Leon slid over the machine bed and nearly went down under the tires.

And the machine came to a roaring stop.

Ashley gasped, loudly, "OH god. I'm so sorry! Are you ok?"

Leon gave her a thumbs up and leaped down to move to check on Jill. They were in some kind of narrow room with a sofa and a table. Jill was rousing already and getting to her feet.

Leon cupped her face to check her. She gripped his wrists and smiled, gently.

And Ashley joined them in the half destroyed room.

Amused, Jill teased, "Who's the worst driver now huh, hotstuff?"

Leon, for just a brief moment it seemed, had been given just a little bit of vindication...at least until he was behind the wheel of the next vehicle he would inevitably destroy.


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N:** So, this is a big scene in the making here. We are about to meet Krauser for the first time. I struggle with not making it too heavy. Let's see if our punny agent can make things happily uncomfortably fun._

 _DPumpkin -I have plenty of heavy works. Thank you for enjoying the lightness of this one. It's nothing but fun to write it. And I read every word of the reviews that come in. I get such great ideas when everyone leaves them. So, I'm super glad you're still reading and loving this stuff._

* * *

 **XVIII: Jack Attack**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

Jill was perfectly happy to let Leon examine her face. She felt the wince of pain when his fingers brushed the back of her skull. He turned her to look at it and remarked, "Goose egg."

Without missing a beat, Jill replied, "Is it golden? If so? We're rich, bitch."

Chuckling lightly, he brushed his hand over her arm absently and turned to check on Ashley.

The President's pride and joy declared, "I'm fine. Honestly..." And then she swayed.

Concerned, Leon caught her as she headed for the floor. She clung to his shirt, eyes rolling a little. He shot a look of concern to Jill and missed the little grin on Ashley.

Jill rolled her bottom lip under and chuckled.

Ashley swooned, sighing, "Ohhh...my head."

And Leon, with his genius IQ, was concerned without realizing he was being played. "Let me see."

Ashley pointed to above her right ear and he lowered his face too look at it. She was leaning in his hold, letting him support her. She grinned at Jill who rolled her eyes and laughed.

Leon mused, "Looks ok, kid. I don't see anything back there."

Ashley sighed dramatically, turned her face as he leaned back, and planted a big kiss right on his mouth.

He looked...something. He looked...pretty surprised and then? Utterly amused.

Jill couldn't stop laughing.

Ashley kept on grinning and said, "Sorry. Couldn't help myself. Bygones?"

"Without a doubt. Although now I can't trust you, you're a trickster. And a bit of a lech."

Ashley giggled as he let her go. Jill slung an arm over her shoulders companionably and Leon eased open the door to the room beside their tragic crash site.

Pistol aimed, he went through first.

Later, Jill would realize what was the worst part of the fucking parasite in him. It stripped away his free will.

Saddler stood across the room, watching them. His robe was rippling like he was taking on wind from somewhere. The gross staff in his hand was eyeballing them even as its tentacles waved in the air like hands saying hello.

Leon lifted his gun and Saddler tilted his head.

Jill thought, kill that son of a bitch, but Leon didn't kill him. He collapsed to floor with a cry of pain that scared her to death.

She let go of Ashley to drop beside him and Ashley grabbed for the gun Leon had dropped on the ground.

Amused, Saddler reflected, "Isn't this a fascinating situation. The hero - remains the villian after all. Ashley...come to me."

The gun fell from the girl's hands to the floor with a clatter. Jill reached for her to hold on but Ashley shivered like she was having a seizure, her eyes turned as red as the blood splattered on the floor around them, and she walked slowly toward the enemy.

Jill shouted, "Ashley! Stop!"

She grabbed for her and Saddler commanded, quietly, "Stop her."

It wasn't Ashley that reached for her.

It was Leon.

And she'd never been more afraid.

He was shaking. He was resisting it. His brow was sweating and he was grunting in pain...but he listened.

He grabbed Jill, Ashley shook free of her grip, and Leon bound Jill to his front with her back to him. He cross armed over her chest and arms and lifted her while her feet dangled.

She shouted, jerking in his grasp, "Leon! LET GO! Don't let him take her! Let me go! Ashley! ASHLEY!"

Saddler grinned and patted Ashley's face as she stepped up beside him. He didn't see the little GPS device stuck on her coat that Jill had tossed on her in the struggle. He smiled at them, "You see...this is the power of the plagas. It allows me to create the world as I see fit. It allows me to make the hero...my slave. Ashley - follow me. And you? Hero?"

Jill vibrated in Leon's arms. She knew where this was going.

Saddler said, offhandedly, "Kill the girl."

He moved toward the door with Ashley in tow. It was a stage of some kind. Or platform where he stood. An altar was behind him with the symbol for los illuminados in a steel statue upon it. He didn't bother to wait, Saddler simply left them alone in the room.

Jill felt the fever on her skin. She felt him shaking. But he hadn't killed her.

He was still resisting.

He was still holding on.

She whispered, "It's ok. Let me go. He's gone. Let me go, Leon."

His arms tightened, squeezing her. She felt her body protest the tightness of it. She was so calm. She wasn't afraid of him. She turned her face to his. She kissed his chin and the side of his mouth.

"He doesn't have you. You're still you. Let me go. Let me help you."

His eyes had bled red. She still...wasn't afraid. Why? She could feel him shaking. She could feel him resisting it.

She kissed the edge of his mouth. She kissed his cheek. "Help me, Leon. Let go. So, we can finish him."

His face turned, slightly. His arms shivered. He was squeezing her so tight she could hardly breathe. He was simultaneously trying to kill her with it and hold on to himself by keeping her. She knew that. She could FEEL his struggle.

Jill whispered, "Turn your head to me. Now."

He did, slightly and she kissed his mouth. Soft. Smooth.

She added, softly, "Close your eyes."

And he did that too.

Still there, she thought, still you.

Jill nuzzled his mouth open and sunk into it. It was all her. All her entirely. He didn't resist. He didn't retreat. He didn't let go. He shivered and let her kiss him.

His arms softened. His spine relaxed. She felt her heartbeat slow. She felt his do the same. Kisses, she thought, they could rile you up and they could settle you down.

His grip loosened, his head turned more to her, and he kissed her back.

Kisses, Jill thought again, saving sleeping princesses, slaying dragons, stopping parasites - since the dawn of time.

His hand shifted and slid against her face and he tilted it to him to finish it. Smooth and soft and sweet somehow. A good kiss. Shivering, he finally let her go but they pressed foreheads for one long moment when he did.

And he whispered, gently, "Thank you. I'm sorry."

"Not you. Not you, ever. No sorry. Let's stop him. Together. Now."

They let go even when they both wanted to hold on.

They moved toward the door where Saddler had fled. But the beeping on Jill's tracker said they were long gone.

A small lift raised them up to steel walkway in the warehouse where they found themselves. It was a factory? It was something. She wondered if this was where they created "regenerators".

Jill touched his arm as the lift stopped and drew his gaze to her. All him - very blue - very tired. She instructed, softly, "Stay with me. We'll stop him. Stay with me."

"I'm here. It's me. I promise."

She nodded and let him go forward. She could feel the struggle on him. She knew it was hard for him. He was losing, not to an enemy that was better but to one that was inside of him. He had no power to fight the thing in his body.

It was a scary thing to see. She had no idea how it felt.

He started across the metal walkway with a clang of boots. Steam billowed from pipes that lined the walls across from them, industrial sized duct work hung like sagging garland throughout the concrete prison where they found themselves. The intense scent of rot and stagnant water was cloying here. Jill wondered if they were close to the caves he'd seen on the facility lay out.

She started forward to ask him and a sound drew her gaze up.

A huge man was on the walkway above them. He massively muslced in a moisture wicking black shirt a shoulder holster. The fatigues he wore were topped by knee pads. His face? All scars and survival on pale, tired skin. He might have been handsome once - but he wasn't anymore.

The beret on hid head was red and bore the insignia of a SOCOM officer. She couldn't tell if he was Army, Navy, Marines or the like from the distance. But it looked like he was an officer of some kind.

And there was no time anyway.

Time slowed down. He leaped and grabbed the pipe. He swung like a gymnast.

The knife in his hand flashed.

Jill shouted. She raised her gun.

The world went small and scary. Because she knew what came next.

He dropped, knife flashing, her bullet hit the pipe beside him in a burst and loud squeal of metal, and she missed. She missed.

Her heart said: you got Leon Kennedy killed.

But she hadn't.

Because he just...wasn't there anymore. Where the man had fallen to end him? He was gone.

He'd rolled or flown or zipped away or something in a move so fast, Jill didn't think she could be anymore impressed. She was already running at them. Leon was crouched a few feet away, hair in his face, eyes narrowed.

His face was bloody on one side, the man's knife was dripping it to the metal, but the sneak execution had failed.

Jill stopped running and raised her gun. But the man in the beret was already holding his on her.

Leon stayed crouched, watching them.

And he said, softly, "...Jack."

"Leon." Said the man, smiling from his ruined lips, "Told you I was dead, did they?"

"They did. Claimed it was my fault actually. I told them, I didn't kill you - I just fucked your face all up and left you making a bad joke in a burning jungle."

Jack laughed, highly amused, "You did, comrade. You did. You carved me up like a turkey. For what? A piece of ass in a dress that you felt like you needed to protect."

Leon stayed crouching. He couldn't risk it with that gun on Jill. "We both know why, Krauser. We both know what I found you doing to Manuella before the pick up got there."

Krauser shrugged, amused still. He was looking at Jill in a way that made her blood cold. She kept the shotgun on him, breathing low and slow. "We saved her ungrateful life. She was ours until they took her. She owed me."

Jesus.

Jill got the idea. She knew, now, what was going through his head as he was looking at her.

But just to be clear?

Jill asked quietly, "You rape girls often after a mission?"

Jack laughed again, pacing a little like a tiger, "I'm a viking, princess. I win the battle. I collect the spoils. The problem with that? The boyscout over here felt like he needed to defend her honor. Caught me, pants down, filling her out like an application in that barn before her pick up arrived."

Jill felt the rage in her blood for a girl she'd never met. "You bastard. I'm going to enjoy killing you."

Krauser tilted his head, watching her face. "Are you? Kennedy tried. I fucked him all up for it. I lost. In my defense, he caught me mid pump with my pants down, so I was a little slow on the draw. Carved my face all to hell but..." He rubbed his countenance with the butt of his knife, "Chics dig scars right? So it's all good."

Yep. Pig.

Jill vibrated with the need to shoot him.

Would she be faster?

He took her choice away. He shifted his gun to Leon. "Drop it, sweetheart, or see what happens to boyscouts that piss me off."

Leon shook his head, telling her not to do it.

But she couldn't risk him.

She dropped the shotgun with a clang.

Krauser nodded, "Now kick it over the side."

She did that too and heard it clatter as it fell.

"Good girl. Now come here and give me a kiss."

Lord.

Jill smiled like a wolf. "Go fuck yourself."

Krauser shrugged and fired the gun at Leon without even looking. The world went slow again. The bullet pinged off the metal where he'd been. He rolled into Krauser's attack zone and the clash of and kiss of knifes striking filled the room.

Leon rose up under his arm, deflected the strike of his knife with his own, and divested the big man of his pistol in a single move. He ejected the magazine and threw it away, listening to it fall into the factory somewhere with a gong of metal.

They circled each other, big bladed knives flashing in the low lighting.

Jill hesitated, unsure if she should join the fray or stay away.

Krauser taunted, quietly, "I didn't get to put my hands on the girl before I handed her over to Saddler. Shame. I always wanted to get my rocks off between the thighs of an uptight spoiled rich bitch like that."

He was disgusting. Jill dropped her knife into her hand and rolled it.

Leon hissed, eyes flashing, "You bastard. You turned on your own country. What was the price Jack? What'd it take?"

"Not much, honestly. After you pussied out on me and tried to be a hero, I faked my own death and sold my soul. Turns out the dark side pays better. And I get all the ass I want, whenever I want, without boyscouts stopping me."

Jill had never heard his voice sound like that. Leon sounded so dark it scared her when he spoke, low and gravelly, "I should have killed you in the jungle."

"You tried, comrade. You just weren't good enough."

They moved, fluidly, both of them. Jill watched them strike blades, watched Leon rolled over his big back and duck to avoid a slash to the throat. They swung, they slid, they rolled. Krauser kicked him back and jabbed.

Her air left her lungs as it missed Leon's chest by an inch. He flipped backward, Krauser rolled forward into a cart wheel, and they were face to face again in the dull light.

Krauser circled him, grinning, "You've gotten better it seems. White?"

"Not him, you asshole, me. Just me. I wasn't good enough then. I'm good enough now. What's the saying? Good enough for government work right?"

Krauser charged him. Leon feinted back, rolled up under his arms, and kicked him in the knee. As Krauser spun to avoid losing his nose, he caught the slash of Leon's blade across his sternum. His answering slice missed Leon's left ear by a breath.

Enough, Jill thought, enough was enough. She was nearly peeing herself over here.

The shirt split and Jack bled down his chest. Impressed, he snorted. "Not bad. That's the only one you're gonna get, I promise you. Go ahead, you boyscout, make a pun."

Leon laughed, lightly. He shrugged a little. "Why not? I'll take a "stab" at it."

Lord.

Nothing stopped him it seemed.

Krauser raced at him. Leon back flipped, skidded out, and rolled to miss the knife to the face. He floor swept the other man as he went and Krauser went down on his back.

It was a loud gong of metal and Leon quipped, "You know Jack, I hate to cut and run but I have to go get Ashley back. Let's get to the point here, shall we?"

Jill couldn't stop the laugh. She tried. She really had to stop encouraging him. He was awful.

Jack grinned, flipping to his feet. "That all you got? You're a joke."

"That jokes on you big guy. I tire of these cutting remarks. Stop dirk-ing around and finish me off."

Krauser kicked him. It was unexpected. He swung a back kick, Leon blocked, but the hit threw him a little sideways. Before he could recover, Krauser swung a left hook at him, caught him in the chest, and sent him spinning.

Jill shouted and raced at them.

Krauser stabbed his blade toward Leon's stumbling back and she dropped. She rolled. She launched her blade like a dart.

It whizzed and caught him in the wrist. It threw his arm out as it sliced right through his skin and kept going. The knife was lost to her as it went over the balcony and Krauser's arm burst with blood but it had saved Leon a stabbing to the kidneys from behind.

Instead, Krauser threw a power backhand, caught him in the face and sent Leon onto his back to skid across the metal floor. His knife tumbled with a metal squeal, Jill flipped into Krauser's attack zone, and he swung his knife an inch over her head as she dropped.

She kicked him square in the groin from the ground.

"Don't put your fucking hands on him - ever again." She spit it at him, shaking with rage.

He staggered, Jill rolled back to throw an elbow at his sternum while he staggered, and he grabbed her hair. He fisted his hand in it, jerked, and threw her away like garbage. She rolled, grabbed Leon's knife as she went, and came up to one knee. But there he was anyway. He knocked her hands away, backhanded her in the face hard enough to steal her vision on one side with flashes of light, and kicked her in the chest to send her sprawling.

Fast, she thought, fast like nothing she'd ever seen.

"Fascinating. Kennedy - you slippery little shit - you fucking your partner? Boyscout, my ass. Can't blame ya though, she's all tits and ass."

She rolled to her side and he kicked her in the stomach, sending her rolling the other way. She lost her air, almost threw up, and scrambled.

Krauser grabbed her throat and lifted her, dangling her feet, "Pretty bitch, stupid though, but pretty. A waste to kill you but you're pissing me off."

He started choking her, she kicked and slapped his face with her hands, and Jack jerked. Once, twice, three times - as Leon drove the knife in his hands into his side and his back.

Instead, Krauser threw her away. Jill went up and over. She rolled over the ground and fell.

She went right over the balcony. She shouted, she grabbed, she dangled from the edge - gasping and nearly gone.

On the metal deck, Krauser turned. He caught Leon's stabbing wrist and jerked, pulling him close. They were nose to nose. Krauser twisted his arm, roughly, "Kennedy - you might be able to prolong your life, but it's not like you can escape your inevitable death."

Leon grinned, a flash of fire in blue eyes, "One of us is bleeding, _comrade,_ and the other one isn't. Who's dying today?"

Krauser laughed and head butted him.

It was hard. It rang.

It sent Leon to one knee with a grunt of pain.

Krauser kicked him to his back and straddled him. "You always were dumber than shit for a guy they told me was some kind of genius. Big fucking idiot. Die, _comrade._ "

Krauser drove the knife down. Leon cross barred his wrists to stop him. The knife point touched his nose. They were both shouting, both grunting, both shoving.

Hands down, Krauser was stronger, no getting around that.

The knife point touched Leon's throat, drawing blood. He figured - this is how he died- spitted on Jack Krauser's knife like some kind of prize.

A gun went off.

The knife was sent spinning.

Krauser leaped off him and missed being pegged with the next shot.

Ada Wong stood on the walkway above them, machine pistol aimed. "Jack - you bad boy. Go place somewhere else."

Krauser hissed and laughed and leaped, high, high - impossibly high - up to the over hang at the top of the ceiling, "The bitch in red. You're making a mistake. Wesker doesn't take well to traitors."

Ada rolled her eyes and commented, blandly, "Save me the threats, Jack. Wesker doesn't scare me. Run. Before I finish the job on that ugly face."

Jack pointed at Leon where he lay on the ground, "Umbrella doesn't like failure. This isn't over, you fool. When you're dead? I'm gonna scalp you of that pretty hair, fuck your bitch and come all over your still bleeding skull."

He fled with a clang of boots.

Ada leaped down and moved to help Jill up from where she dangled.

On her feet, Jill eyed the other woman with no small sense of distrust but she said, "Thank you."

Leon climbed up from the ground, wiping away the blood on his face. "Maybe it's time you tell what's going on here, Ada."

"Some other time handsome, for now? Get that damn thing out of you. And don't discount his threats, Leon. Jack was unstable before he started working for Wesker. Now? He's insane." She eyed Jill, almost gently, "Don't ever be alone with him."

Jill sutdied her, "You have been, clearly."

"He doesn't see me as a woman. I'm too powerful for that. Wesker made it clear I wasn't to be touched. You don't have the luxury. And Jack? He doesn't care if you say yes or no or scream or cry or fight back. He takes what he wants. He'd do it just to hurt, Leon. He'll do it for sure because you're beautiful. Remember...never alone. Ever."

Jill narrowed her eyes. "I can handle myself. But thanks."

"You can't. He's not human." She looked at Leon, "He's not human, anymore. Keep her away from him. Do NOT let him get the girl you're chasing. You've been warned. I'll do what I can. Stay safe."

She leaped over the side without another word.

Leon stared at where she'd gone, shaking his head. "Umbrella? What the fuck does that even mean?"

He turned back and Jill touched his cheek where he was bleeding. Her mouth was wet with blood and swollen. He echoed the move, tenderly. She smiled and winced, "Your old friends are all assholes, Leon Kennedy."

His thumb swept her mouth and had her cheeks pinkening.

"They are. I need new ones. You wanna be my friend?"

Jill grinned a little, eyes twinkling, "A dangerous thing to be these days. What's the benefits of it?"

His mouth lowered. Hers lifted. They brushed, just once, soft and smooth.

Jill sighed, shivering a bit, "That's a good argument."

"Just one of the perks."

"You kiss all your friends like that?"

Amused, he helped her leap down from the platform beside him. "Just the ones I wanna fuck."

And she laughed.

It was so crass. It was just him. He just..plop...threw it out there. No tact whatsoever.

She laughed and had him smiling. "Lord. Deal. I'll be your friend. Abso-fucking-lutely. But..." She stopped him with a hand on his arm. Her face was serious. He held her gaze.

"This means you can't be friends at ALL with Ashley. At all, Leon. Ever."

"Ever?"

"No. Nor Ada Wong. Never."

Her throat was bruised. From him, from Krauser - Krauser...he'd never forget finding him in that shed with Manuella fighting him off. Jesus. That's what happened when you went to take a piss. Somebody ended up raping the girl you'd been saving.

He'd kill anyone who touched this one. He'd tried to kill Krauser for Manuella. A sweet girl infected without her consent. She'd deserved better from the men who'd saved her.

He'd cut him to pieces for touching Jill or Ashley...and enjoy it.

And he mused, to make her smile, "What about Chris? Can we be friends?"

Her face. Priceless. She grinned, wide and happy, "Depends...who's the catcher in that friendship?"

He went with her laughing into the next room.

It beat the hell outta thinking about Jack Krauser with his hands all over her.


	20. Chapter 20

_**A/N:**  
_

 _ **VValentine -** We agree on that. I love a good powerful scene (your stuff is ripe with them) so it's sometimes very hard to keep things sweeter and lighter here. It's gonna cross into the dark a little bit before we get our hero free of his parasite - we know that. And I'm already entertaining how to put my favorite agent into Revelations with Jill. The only issues, always, with that is how NOT to make it a triangle! Anytime I dump Chris in the story - there's always drama -bwahaha. I can't seem to stop everyone from loving Jill - :p. I will probably, after writing this, attempt a retelling of Operation: Javier with Jill in it. Most likely._

* * *

 **XIX: IT**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

They eased into a small hallway that felt industrial in nature. It was entirely too clean. It was entirely too rectangular. It was graced with a big set of double doors to the other side.

It was perfectly innocuous.

And set off every alarm bell he had.

Leon paused and his communicator signaled. Lifting it, Osmund Saddler's ugly face greeted him with a big grin.

"Ah - Mr. Kennedy - I see you had a nice reunion with your old friend."

Leon put a hand on Jill's arm to keep her from wandering forward. She paused, watching him with curiosity and he grinned back at Saddler, "Oh, it was a lovely tea party, Saddler, you should have stopped in for a cup."

Saddler laughed, lightly with derision, "Jack is such a character. He kept things...entertaining until he betrayed me. Don't worry, you'll see him again, it turns out his need for revenge is even more...visceral...than mine. He'll enjoy showing you his power on your woman. He kept the rejectees from my rituals...entertained."

Jesus.

Jill felt her teeth clench.

The interesting part was that Leon was sort of absently stroking her arm like he was soothing her. Like he knew she was pissed.

Casual discussions about rape weren't her normal Thanksgiving ritual after all.

Leon tilted a brow, smirking, "You missed an important part of this revenge fantasy your dreaming up in your ugly head, Oz. Both you and Jack."

"Oh? And what's that?"

Leon's face was wolfish now and taunting, "I fucked him all up the first time. For a girl, I barely knew. What do you think I'll do to him and you, for the ones that matter?"

Saddler laughed again, high and excited, "Oh. I hope you make it to me. I do. I really do. What fun we'll have, no? I'll let Jack have your woman before I kill her. And him. For now?"

His grin was all teeth, "I think IT will enjoying playing with you."

"Like the clown?" Leon tilted his head a little, mocking, "Wrong tree you're barking up there, Oz. I kick ugly clowns in their gonads. And I make mother fucking rapists my bitch."

"A curious image, to be sure. And a waste of your bravado. IT...doesn't make jokes or use balloon animals...and it gets tired of bad puns. Enjoy. My last gift to you."

The image clicked off.

Jill shook his hand off her arm. She didn't want to be comforted.

And her voice shook a little, "You didn't kill him."

His eyes shifted to her face, "Saddler?"

"No. Jack. Krauser. You left him ALIVE after what he did to Manuela."

The pain in her for a girl she'd never met hurt him too. He tugged her to him by her elbow. She let him, but she was vibrating.

His voice was low, powerful, and unlike him. "I didn't leave him alive. I tried like hell to kill him. He was down. He was bleeding. I thought he was dead. Manuela, a little thing that couldn't weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, helped me out to the transpo. When they went back to get his body? It was gone."

He shook his head, hard, and she felt the regret on him. "Manuela was bleeding from what he'd done to her. Shaking. Scared. And used. And she couldn't leave me behind to die. She helped me. And I tried like holy hell to finish him for her. I didn't leave him alive. I just wasn't good enough to kill him."

Her hand came up. It cupped his face. He held on to her arm.

And he watched her face soften. She whispered, hissing it, "He's done. It's not your fault. It's not. He's done here. We'll put him down like the dog he is, Leon...together. For her. And every girl he's ever touched since."

They held eyes for a long moment. Finally, he nodded.

And because he wanted to kiss her, he let her go to face the room they were in.

He said, "Do you remember when I asked you about Parkour?"

"Of course, why?"

"My gut tells me were gonna be in trouble in a minute here."

They started forward and a there was a pop, a hiss, and a sound like a light saber springing to life.

They were suddenly face to face with three rotating lasers. They shot down from the ceiling and created a pattern meant to block them. It was easy enough to time them and step between when the pattern allowed.

But it wasn't done. The next set was six of them and slightly more complicated.

Jill whispered, "This gets worse before it gets better."

"Oh, yeah, it does."

They were halfway across the room.

And it stopped playing games.

The lasers popped, hissed, and shot out of the walls now. They were at least twenty. They were from floor to ceiling. They were coming right at them.

Jill backed up. Leon didn't.

He hopped from foot to foot, tracking them.

And he said, "Go flat to the floor, roll six inches to your right and into a back tuck. Can you?"

"Naturally. You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

The lasers came and there was no more time to wonder.

She went to her belly, she rolled right, and she sprang up and tucked. She felt the pop and heat of a laser taking a chunk of her ponytail as it whipped too close.

Leon dove forward, twisted, and missed losing his head by less than that.

Jill breathed, quietly, "You saw that. You saw that happen."

"I did."

She watched his profile as they eased over the floor. And she said it because it needed said now, "You're fucking amazing. You see everything. Everything. And things the rest of us can't."

He shook his head, considering the big red button on the door they needed to get through. "I'm not. I left Manuela with Jack. And I went to take a piss. I don't see everything. Not when it matters."

She gripped his holster. She turned him to her and kissed him. He made some sound and leaned into her. Soft, it was eyes open and watching each other.

She said, against his mouth, "Stop it. Now. If you start doubting yourself, if you start letting the regret get you, that's where you go to die. Stay with me. And finish it."

Jill let him go. Because they both wanted her to hold on.

He was being so good. He hadn't touched her too much. On the boat, just that once. He was so careful with her. What had he said? I won't risk you to get my rocks off.

He was good in his bones. He was handsome and smart and skilled. He was dwelling in pain for the one girl he couldn't save.

She was nuts for him.

Leon pressed the button.

The door they'd come from crackled.

And it was a now a patchwork, rolling, chessboard pattern of lasers that came at them. There was no ducking and rolling and flipping here.

There was no avoiding them.

Or was there?

Leon said, quietly, almost casually, "How's your acrobatics?"

"Rusty."

"Shake that rust loose, baby, and follow me."

He ran at the lasers. She followed him.

He waited, he turned, he ran just ahead of them with her. He dropped his hands to cradle, Jill threw her boot in it, and he tossed her like a cheerleader to the top of the pile.

And he hit the door with his boots.

He, literally, ran up the wall.

She went up and over the lasers, spinning like a dart. She felt the lasers sheer a chunk off the back of her vest and she kicked off the ceiling to throw herself over them.

She'd never, actually, seen anyone wall run like that. He did it effortlessly. He hit the wall, bounded off the ceiling, and flipped over the wall of lasers.

The landing wasn't graceful.

He landed on his belly with his hands down like a push-up.

But it worked.

It worked.

Who the hell cared about the landing?

But Jill mused, "That was an 8.2."

He rolled. She helped him up. The lasers popped and the pressurized sound of releasing locks signaled the door was open.

Leon smiled at her, winking a little, "You and the German judge...tough."

Jill laughed a little and they cleared into the next chamber.

Empty. Red. Dingy light and shadows.

And a thrown that seemed to be waiting for a butt to sit in it.

They moved forward, cautiously. A spill of papers drew her attention and Jill stopped to pick through them.

Leon, with a great sigh of fatigue, sat down in the thrown. He leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee, poking his chin on his fingers thoughtfully while she read.

It was Sera's research again. It was detailed now. It was scattered with Saddler's remarks.

She read aloud, "The parasite bonds to the host. It can reflect the conscious of that bond. It makes for a difficult struggle when embracing soldiers to the cause. Krauser reflects that struggle in his betrayal. Sera was my first real failure in trust. I won't make the same mistake."

She hesitated and Leon tilted a brow. "Read it, Jill. I can take it."

She went on, sighing, "The Agent reflects a more cohesive bonding of parasite and host. His initial manifestation of symptoms is positive. With proper prompting, his rage can be used to feed the parasite and bond him to the cause. Keeping him alive might have proved counterproductive initially based on his altruistic behavior, but the addition of the woman in his company allows him to access emotional response to situations. His bond with the woman will allow us to turn him through the parasite and his own need."

Jill was watching him now. Leon was staring at the wall above her head.

It was all there.

In black and white.

She was his weakness.

Without her, this mission would have gone differently for him. He wouldn't be struggling so badly with the thing inside of him. Because he wouldn't have a woman with her hands all over him and in his pants and on his heart.

Loving him was hurting him.

It was making him weak.

She saw it. Did he?

Leon rose, drumming lightly on the arms of the throne. "Nothing new there, is there? But at least we know why Ashley isn't turning so fast now. She's still turning fast enough. He can control her more than me. We need him out of her, yesterday."

There was a lift behind the throne. Leon's boots clanged onto it. He glanced at her, "You ready?"

Jill set the papers down. She eased forward. She stepped onto the lift with him.

And she didn't get close. She hung back.

He hit the button and down they went.

The cool air turned chilly as they descended into the dark.

She shivered a little and he moved to touch her.

She shifted, subtly, just a little. And his hand missed her arm.

Head tilted, he watched her face, "What? What is it?"

Jill flipped her hand. She gripped his forearm. It was so hot. His skin? Burning. Boiling. He was turning so fast.

Because of her.

She whispered, "I'm hurting you. Me being here? It's hurting you. Krauser will use me to hurt you. Saddler will use me to own you. I'm hurting you."

Something on his face stopped her. She was mesmerized by his expression. What was that look? Determination? Dedication? Vengeance?

What?

Coolly, Leon remarked, "Don't. You said it up there to me. Don't let it get you. Not now. You aren't anything but the best god damn thing that ever happened to me. You hear me?"

She said nothing.

He fisted his hands in her vest and pulled her a little, surprising her. The lift bumped to a stop in the cold, damp, echoing cave where they found themselves. "Answer me."

Jill gripped his wrists, watching his face, "It's not the same. Not at all. I can't help you. I can't. I need to go. Away. Now. It's not regret, Leon. It's the truth. This game we keep playing? The flirting, the fucking, the touching - it's going to make you one of them. This is why you don't touch someone on a mission. It's why I don't touch anyone. You think I'd have ever, ever, risked Chris like that?"

They held eyes for a long moment and he answered, quietly, "Then why me?"

"Because I can't not touch you. I have to. It's like possession or something. I feel you in my bones, my blood, my guts. The moment we met, I knew you were different. The flirting, the joking, the long looks...I've never done that with anyone, ever. I broke into your room to put my hands on you because I had to know what you felt like. I climbed on you in that gondola because I had to know what you tasted like. I put my hand in your pants because I had to know what it felt like to have you inside me."

Jesus.

In hindsight, he should have shut her up. Because every word she said seared. It speared. It went into his guts and into his nuts and just...made him insane for her.

Didn't she get it?

It was the SAME for him.

Jill shook her head and started off the lift, "But I've just made it worse. Worse. I should have left after I carried you into that cave. I should never have stayed. I've done nothing but hurt you. That's why goodbye should stay goodbye...the first time I said it. I should have never looked back."

Leon shook his head. He grabbed her elbow again. He spun her around and stuck his other hand out in front of him.

She looked at it.

And it was steady.

Their eyes held. And he said, with feeling that robbed her heart and kept it in his hands, "The first time I saw you - that hand? It was shaking. It was shaking with need for you. The need? It's still there, Jill. But that's the thing about me, I can shake on the inside and control the outside. You've saved my life. Without you here, I'd be dead. The feelings? The want? That's all good. It's good. It's bad timing but it's good. Don't run off on me. Don't give up on me. I'm not dead."

She held his gaze and said nothing.

His other hand gripped her arm and shook her, startling a gasp from her. "I'm not dead." Low and with feeling, "Stop acting like I'm dead and you killed me. Stop looking at me like it's over. I'm still here."

Her heart hammered in her chest. He lifted a fist and rapped it sharply on his, "I'm still here. Me. I'm still me. Don't you give up on me."

He tossed her arm away. He turned and moved down the narrow, wet, craggy incline into the caves. "And don't you leave me either, Jill. I need you."

He tossed it over his shoulder as he walked.

And made her stand there frozen for a moment relearning how to breathe.

The cavern overlooked a large shipping container suspended on chains above the abyss beneath it. It was adjacent to another cavern that waited on the other side.

The GPS Jill had thrown on Ashley flickered, signaling she was close.

She hurried down the incline to join him and he was kneeling near a puddle.

She called, lightly, "Ashley is close!"

But he lifted his hand to show her that flickering little tracker in it.

Jill paused, cursing, "Shit. It fell off."

"Looks that way."

He rose, palming the little device. He didn't look at her. He looked out over the cavern, judging things.

Jill gripped his vest and squeezed. It drew his eyes to her. And she swore, low and hard, "I'm with you. I'm _with_ you. I'm not going anywhere."

Leon nodded, scanning her face. She let him go. He turned to the shipping container.

They stepped gingerly into the metal death trap. It was all chainlink and steel and sections. Guns up, guts rolling with fear, they moved amongst the orange, red, green and yellow crates that were piled around the narrow turns.

Jill felt her mouth go dry when the sound started.

It was a chittering. It was a chattering. It was nails on a chalkboard. It was squealing. It smelled like mold and mildew and old blood.

It smelled like oil and old blood.

Where was the blood?

Where was the copper?

Leon touched the button beside them on a console to open the shutter to the next section.

They turned back. A small timer informed them, "30 seconds to purge. Please evacuate."

Lord.

They moved quickly. Leon stepped into the next section.

Jill was about three steps behind him.

She saw it.

It.

IT.

It threw down a long, sharp, seeking arm. It was part man and monster and lobster or something. It would skitter like a crab when it walked. It had a squat back end like a bullfrog.

It had a tongue as long as a forearm hanging out of its screaming mouth. It had something on its back that looked like the plagas had mated with a cockroach and had a slicing, swirling, stabbing baby. It was pale and putrid and covered...in old blood.

A handful of seconds. It didn't seem longer than a breath.

It threw that sharp talon down from where it was crouched at him.

She leaped.

The talon caught the back of her vest. It split like paper. It caught her shirt beneath and the skin below. It sliced deep and fast.

She caught Leon to take him to the floor.

It was a good trade, she thought, her for him.

They went down, skidding over the metal.

And the old blood smell was replaced with fresh.

Leon shouted, rolling even as they fell. He jerked her up and over his shoulder. She went, losing her weapon from her limp hands.

She was bleeding everywhere.

IT chased them as he ran.

Strong, Jill thought, he didn't even stop, he didn't flag. He just added her weight to his and ran on.

IT was merciless. It ran after them roaring.

He hit buttons and ducked, rolled her into his arms when he couldn't balance her anymore, and ran on.

It didn't take long for her to go limp in his grip.

The fear tasted like pennies and ash in his mouth.

She was slick with blood.

The alarms started blaring, he hit the button for the final container to drop boldly into nothing. A small hook descended, offering the only way off the plummeting final metal section where they found themselves.

Leon shouted as he ran for it, "Jill! JILL! WAKE UP! Wake up, please!"

She moaned, shifting in his grip. And he jerked her up and around his front, "Hold on to me! Ok? Like a monkey, honey. Grab on and don't let go!"

She did it. She octopus held his front, her legs locking around his waist. Her arms looped around his shoulders. His hand slid over her bloody back, he pushed off the edge of the damn container, the timer hit zero - and they were suspended in the world's worst jump over nothing.

The container dropped with a high pitched whine of metal releasing.

Leon's fist gripped the dangling hook like the world's biggest ratchet strap or something, and his foot found purchase on the chunky metal connector.

It groaned, it rolled out and swung, IT took a swipe for them from the falling container...and it plummeted into the dark with a scream of denial.

The hook threw them in an arch toward the opposite side. Leon, heart racing so hard he was light-headed, waited for it and leaped when they were close.

He landed on one knee, spilling her into his arms. She rolled, gasping. It was fast, the feeling of the fear that ate around the brain and made you manic. He dumped hemostat on the horror of her back and covered it with gauze while she lay on her side on the wet floor, pale and shaking.

She whispered, "It's bad right?"

He said nothing.

Her head turned, a little, "Leon?"

"It's not good." Cold. Cool. His voice. He was cold in his guts.

Jill nodded, lightly and closed her eyes. "Leave me here and go on. Get her back. Hurry."

"Shut up." Cold again. His voice. It was cold and scared her. But she was tired. So she just slipped back into the dark with a tremble of sound.

He lifted her. And his steady hands? Shaking now. Shaking.

He kicked open the first door he came to and cleared it. A maintenance office or something. It was warm enough inside with a small space heater and a desk. A little cot was against the far wall and Leon laid her on it. In her ruined vest, a shot of adrenaline drew his eye. He'd use it, if she didn't bounce back soon enough, he'd shoot her full of it. What a fucking stupid girl she was.

Stupid.

STUPID.

Did she think it would have gotten him?

HE KNEW IT WAS THERE.

He was leading it away.

And she just...jumped on him.

To save him.

The thunder of his heart scared him. In one hand, she was right. Everything she said? RIGHT. This mission MAY have gone so different without her here. One - he might have died in that shed with the chainsaw man and none of this would have mattered.

Two - if he'd somehow lived - he wouldn't have been thinking of her on that boat and nearly capsized and died.

MAYBE.

MAYBE. Damnit. It was all maybes.

All maybes.

What did she think? That he was fucking James Bond? He was trained. He was talented. He was fast and smart and capable.

HE WAS HUMAN.

His hand swept things off the desk in a clatter of anger. Leon sat on it, breathing hard and low. There was no way knowing if he would have made it this far without her (*cough*) but one thing remained true - under all the touching, all the flirting, all the long stares and kissing and wanting, they were PARTNERS.

In this? Partners. In it together. Not his primary way of doing things. Not anymore. Not since Jack and his betrayal. But through circumstance or fate, or bad luck, or timing or...love. They were in it now. They were partners.

He wouldn't leave her. He wouldn't let her die. He wouldn't just stand there and watch her run.

He needed her. It was that simple. At this moment, in this version of life with her in it, in this MISSION - it was too late to wonder what might have happened without her here. She was here. It was done.

His hand shifted to the little thing on her wrist. He tapped it and it beeped, throwing data across the screen. It shivered and threw a hologram on the wall - like Leia from the eye of R2D2 - he was face to face with the famous, legendary...handsome face of Chris Redfield.

Why did it irritate Leon to know Redfield was handsome?

A brow lifted, Redfield inquired, "Kennedy?"

Leon licked his teeth, "That's what they tell me."

'Where's Jill?"

"She's here. She's hurt. She's sleeping."

"What the fuck did you do?"

Two stamping bulls, that's what this was. Leon narrowed his eyes, "Nothing. She's selfless, surely you know that."

The hologram shifted. Redfield rubbed his jaw. "I do. Why buzz me?"

"I want her safe. I need her extracted. I need you to come get her. Now."

They held gazes. Chris waited a handful of minutes and finally intoned, "No."

Surprised, Leon queried, "Why the hell not?"

"Because it's her mission. She's still in it. You met her? I don't rescue her. She rescues herself. She'll buzz me if she needs me. And she won't like you doing it for her." Chris seemed to be eating nachos or something on his end, "You are asking for an ass kicking going behind her back to get her evaced."

"I care. Really. She can hate me all she wants when she's out of here and safe."

Oh.

Ohhh oh oh oh. Chris, on his end, licked his teeth. And he did NOT like the look on Kennedy's face. Nope. Not one little bit. So, he cautioned, "Don't shit where you eat, kid. Bad things happen to idiots who stick their fingers over the fire."

"Thanks for the warning, Dad. I got it. Come get her."

"No. And good luck." Chris signed off.

Annoyed, Leon spun away with a curse of frustration.

On the bed, Jill's voice filled his ears, "I'm sorry. I went down. You ok?"

He turned. She was easing to sit up on the cot. Her pale skin had dark circles under its eyes. She looked so tired and sad.

Leon, without hesitation, threw his anger at her anyway, "You idiot."

"What?"

"You stupid girl. What were you thinking?"

"That I didn't want you to get killed? Was I supposed to stop and consider the ramifications of that before I jumped?"

He shifted, angry, so angry. "You were supposed to be smarter than that. I knew it was there!"

He shouted it. She jumped, eyeing him. "Ok...I didn't know that."

"You think I'm stupid, Jill?! Or incapable? You already think I'm half dead, clearly. So, I'm half dead, stupid, and incapable?"

"I didn't say that." Quietly. He was filled with rage. A curious thing. He was so mad. Why? Because she'd done something brave and heroic and stupid? Well, they could compare notes on that - clearly.

"No. You didn't think. You didn't say. You didn't do anything but nearly kill yourself being stupid. Stay in this room. Do not come out."

He moved to the door. She blinked, watching him, "Excuse me?"

"Stay here, Jill. I mean it. I'm going to take care of IT. You? STAY HERE." He slammed the door and left her in the office.

She shifted on the bed. Her back was bound tightly and well. He'd done a beautiful job on it, no lie there. She slipped off her ruined vest and shirt. In the little wall locker was a long sleeved white undershirt. She slipped it on and tucked it into her pants. The little pack she wore was trashed and ruined on one side, so she transferred her things to the backpack at the bottom of the locker.

Under her breath, she mocked, "Stay in this room, Jill. Sit. Stay. Fetch. Roll over. Dur dur durf. Partners save each other, _Mr. Kennedy_. Which you'd _know_ if you bothered to "follow a ladies lead" occasionally."

She scoffed. She hated him sometimes.

No. That was untrue. She loved him. She'd nearly died to save him. His response? TOTALLY CHRIS. It was anger and arrogance and admonishment. No acknowledgment of what it cost HER. No. Just what it might have cost HIM.

Which was what? Her mind queried, What would he have lost?

An easy answer and the reason she loved him: her.

Jill moved to listen to the door, wondering how long he'd punish her by making her stay in her "room".

She heard it. The roaring. She heard it.

It froze her blood.

And she heard him shout, "That all you got!? COME GET SOME!"

Oh.

GOD.

Idiot. Hero. Moron. Selfless, wonderful, stupid, charming, bumbling and adorable thing that he was. He was taunting it. He was leading it away from her. Because he couldn't stand to see her go down again.

She caught her face in the broken mirror above the desk. What was that on her face? She knew what it was. Love.

Love made you do stupid things. It made you dumber, slower, weaker - more impetuous. It made you cling when you should let go. And it made you stay in a room when you knew, KNEW your partner needed you in the fight.

Love could move mountains. Love could get you killed.

It was the only thing worth fighting for.

Didn't he know that?

Didn't she?

She grabbed the mop handle against the wall. She put her boot to the end and stepped, snapping it free from the squishy bottom and she grabbed her knife from her ruined vest.

She grabbed the handle to the door, listening to him beating the piss out of IT.

There was a shearing sound of metal and a clunk. Jill turned, concerned, and the blow hit her in the face. It threw her over the desk and sent her rolling along the floor.

She grabbed for her makeshift spear and it was kicked clear. A hand closed around her throat, lifting her. Strangling, she stared into the face of Jack Krauser from inches away.

He grinned, delighted. And the open top of the maintenance room was peeled back like a can opener.

His grin was all feral. All scary. All hungry. "Oh...oh this is something. He did it again. He left his woman alone. And went to fight the bad guys. He was always the dumbest kid I ever met. Big fucking hero. He leave you alone, sweetheart? In this wittle old room?" His mocking baby voice scared her to death. She was trying to stay alert. But she was still too hurt, still choking, still dangling.

"Don't you worry, Jack will take good care of you. And I'll show you the difference between a boy like Kennedy and a man. Let's see how fast the rabbit can run to save you, shall we?"

Jill kicked, Jill gasped. Her hand dropped the communicator in it to the desk, still recording...her only chance.

And the lights flickered in her vision. The mouth of Jack Krauser pressed to hers and speared ice into her veins.

And she went swimming in the waiting dark.


	21. Chapter 21

_**A/N:**  
_

 _The heavy has to take hold for a bit here. To see the end of Krauser, to feel the final push toward the end. I'll take this guy just a little past the end of the game to close it down. I'm already mourning it. I always have such a great time playing with Jill and Leon in a familiar setting. Ground Zero, my spin on 6, was a labor of love I pounded out so quickly. I'm entertaining how to poke Jill in other places. I love them together. What can I say?_

* * *

 **XX: Nemesis**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

Leon tossed down the broken piece of metal onto the still smoking corpse. He was panting. He was bleeding. He was sweating.

He was VICTORIOUS.

With a shout and a whoop, he taunted the very dead IT, "Who's it now, mother fucker?! TAG, I'm IT! Me! That's how I get down! Bitch!"

He kicked its smoking corpse. The exploded gasoline drum beside it was how IT had finally met its demise. The scissored armed nightmare on its back was split in half, courtesy of Leon's big knife. The thing was oozing and bleeding all over the dirty cavern floor.

Who needed Jill!? He didn't.

He didn't need her at all.

He'd been stupid thinking he did. He could do this without her. She was as a liability. He was a mother fucking HERO. He didn't need some girl jumping on him to save his life. Aloud, Leon mused, "I GOT THIS. Seriously. Fucking women."

Picking up the shotgun from the floor, he moved back toward the maintenance room. It was time to tell her how the rest of this mission was going to go. It was him in charge. HIM. And her in the shotgun seat. He was driving this bullet train to victory. HIM.

Not her.

Not some giggling, stupid, big breasted woman that liked to oogle him and make him picture her thighs around his ears and distract him from WHAT MATTERED. Running around like some wet dream in a little nightie and laughing up her perfect tits with the President's ANNOYING ass daughter. Laughing at him.

These women.

LAUGHING AT HIM.

Retarded.

Ridiculous.

And DONE.

He felt the shiver of the rage in him and shouted, "I'm not a JOKE! Fuck!"

His hand clasped the knob. His mouth was dry. He shifted his eyes to the reflection of him in the steel.

And he was a liar. He was a big fucking liar. He needed her. She'd saved his ungrateful life more than once. What was this? Where was this rage coming from? But he knew the answer to that already. He knew it.

The parasite bonds to the emotion of its host. Part of him? It kinda believed she was emasculating him a little. She was nerfing him. (*cough*). She was making him comic by existing.

She was making him BETTER by existing.

He knew that in his fucking guts. In his nuts. In his bones and his blood and his heart. Why was he so mad at her? Why?

The parasite was ramping up his feelings. It was making him some typical misogynist looking to be the hero and fuck all the chics and fuck off when he was done. And that wasn't him. It wasn't. He respected her. Maybe more than any woman he'd ever met.

In a way, he heavily respected Ada Wong as well. She was the best at what she did. And Ashley? She wasn't some stupid simpering little girl. She was strong, smart, funny - and surviving.

Somewhere, Claire was kicking his ass for being a big fat jerk about all these women in his life. Who knew better how strong women were?

Claire had saved his life so many times it was insane.

Feeling guilty and a little ashamed of his own thoughts, Leon opened the door to the room, "Jill? Listen - I'm s-"

The room was empty.

He paused, considering. Had she wondered out at some point?

His eyes made sense of the room quickly. A struggle had happened here. There was a spear against the row of lockers with her knife as the tip. There was a scattering of things all over the floor from the desk. He'd done that but not smashed it all. It was all smashed like someone had stepped on it...or fallen on it.

His mouth went dry. His pulse sped up.

And he saw the little recorder on the desk.

His hand-picked it up, it rewound the tape in there, and it played it back - while his stomach rolled with fear.

The first thing he heard was her. She was gasping. She was grunting. She was...strangling.

And then?

KRAUSER.

"I like the taste of your mouth, princess. I bet it makes pretty sounds when you cry. Let's see how long it takes him to find us now. Tick tock, you stupid little shit, you caught me with my pants down once - you won't again. I'll be DONE before you find me."

The recorder clicked off.

Leon stood rooted to the spot holding it.

He had Jill.

HE HAD JILL.

And Leon had never been more afraid in his life.

Something happened in the moment for him to feel the fear. Something shifted inside of him. He was no longer the boy in the boat trying to fuck the girl in the hat.

He was the man in the cage reduced to blood and fight and survival. He was the beast. The best. The last man standing.

In the cage - there was no fear. There was no hope. There was only win, or die.

And Leon Kennedy didn't know how to die.

* * *

She came awake on her face. Her hands and legs were bound. She was faced down over a barrel.

The room smelled like gasoline and chemicals. Her head was throbbing. Her back was burning. She could feel the cold on her skin that said he'd been looking at her. Looking? Liking?

Or licking her spine?

Shifting, Jill heard him laughing.

Not Leon.

KRAUSER.

She went still, breathing low and fast. She listened to her body to see what he'd done to her. She was still dressed. The fear in her mouth tasted like copper. She was still dressed.

That was good. It was good. It was good right?

The voice said, "Wondering if I touched you, princess?"

Her blood chilled in her veins. Jill said nothing.

So Krauser added, "Not yet. I'm saving it. I want him to see it. Better that way right? A real man fucks another's bitch for dominance after defeating him. I'll nearly kill him, string him up, and have him watch. The victor and the spoils right?"

His mouth beside her ear. She went so still but her heart was slamming in her ribs. "You'll like it, I promise. I'm rough, but you seem like a tough little cunt. I bet you can take it. Feel a ran man between your legs for the first time huh? Not some girl with more hair than dick."

His hand stroked her ass over her pants, petting. Jill made a small sound of fear. "Oh, yeah. Get scared, sweetheart, be afraid. I like it better that way. Like spice to life. If you cry, I'll come in you so fast. I'll fill you up. So cry for us both ok? But wait...just until we're both wet with your blood."

Jesus.

She felt herself start to gag on the need to vomit.

He hooted, delighted, "That's what I like baby! Let it loose!"

God.

Jill swallowed, her throat was so dry. And she whispered, "I'll cut your dick off before you die, you stupid bastard, and watch you squeal like a pig."

His mouth turned up in a huge grin. "Oh, oh, yeah. Oh yeah. Fight back. That's even better. Don't cry. FIGHT. I'll give you the fight of your life."

Krauser flipped her over to face him. She kicked him clean in the stomach and sent him reeling. He backhanded her so hard that she was thrown to the side.

His hands grabbed for her and she threw a reverse head butt. She heard it hit. She heard him grunt and laugh.

He lifted her off her feet against his front. He kissed her and she bit him, spitting his own blood in his face.

His laughter was high and happy. He threw her across the room without a second thought.

Jill hit the wall and slid to the floor, dazed.

"Maybe I give you the preview now huh? Since you're so fucking brave."

His hands moved to his pants. She watched him tug his zipper.

And she showed him NOTHING.

She spit at him again and turned her face away.

She might die fucked to death by this bastard...but she wouldn't do it a coward. She closed her eyes, breathing in her strength. She centered herself in the middle of the bath of fear that was trying to drown her.

Krauser grabbed her chin and jerked her face toward him.

Her communicator buzzed, surprising them both. Krauser touched it and mused, sing-song. "Whom do I have the pleasure?"

"The Grim Reaper, you son of a bitch, if you so much as breathe on her - you're gonna find out how to breathe without lungs."

Krauser hooted, happy, happy, "Come join the party, comrade. I'll enjoy seeing how fast you can run. I'll have her ripped open and screaming before you can even fart in my general direction. But start running, asshole, and you'll get here in time to clean up what's left of her."

He set the communicator on the desk so Chris could see the show.

He had no idea who he was fucking with, clearly.

In one hand, Jill knew now - NOW Chris was coming. A thousand horses let loose from hell couldn't drag him away. It was a waiting game now. A game. To see if they could survive until the BSAA got there. He'd smote this island like the wrath of god.

Krauser pursed her lips open, squeezing her jaw. "How about a mouthful of a real man, princess?"

Jill grinned around her tightly clenched teeth, "A real man doesn't force himself on a woman. A real man? Doesn't bother. Kennedy had me at hello."

"A real man takes what he wants. Kennedy is a bitch. And now you're mine." He squeezed so hard she felt her jaw pop. He leaned down and stuck his tongue in her mouth - and she sank her teeth into it.

Krauser reared and she saw it. She saw it coming. She tried to get back and couldn't. He punched her so hard in the face she was pretty sure her nose was toast. She went over onto her back and slid over the floor.

Krauser kicked her to her belly and jerked her hips up. He winked at the communicator and grabbed her belt. "You just earned yourself a "coming" attraction, princess. Lucky you. And apparently? Even I can pun when the situation arises."

His hands grabbed her zipper and it popped like metal teeth. Jill struggled.

And Krauser got what he wanted. She screamed, high and loud.

And an alarm somewhere went off -screeching and high.

He let go, laughing, "FAST! That little fucker got here fast after all! Saved by the bell, princess, should we go check in with your lady love out there? Let's see how that idiot fights when it's his woman on the line."

He grabbed Jill and threw her over his shoulder.

She dangled, shaking.

And she knew she was running out of time.

* * *

Leon found out how fast he could run. Gripping the spear in his fist, he hurried through the cold air.

The outside of the island offered the distinct scent of sea and sky. It should have been beautiful, to stand at the edge of the world and look off into the place where they merged. It should have been a nice view on Thanksgiving.

It was a nightmare.

He was in hell.

He kept picturing Manuela, screaming and fighting. He kept picturing Krauser - laughing and holding her down - rutting like a pig in that shed. The first moment had been nothing but sheer horror.

The next?

A beast that scents the blood of its enemy.

They'd battled so hard. Blood and sweat and survival. Krauser, lost in the first few minutes, to his own inept response. He'd been on the ground with his face a mask of blood and screaming while Leon had carved him up with a cry of rage.

It was something that haunted him even now.

The girl bleeding and cowering and crying.

But as Krauser had pinned him and nearly choked him, Manuela had smashed the lamp into his head and sent him sprawling. Used, abused, terrified and lost - she'd jerked Leon to his feet so they could flee.

Women, he thought, the strongest things on earth.

He knew that.

Jill was ok. She was ok. He was coming for her. But maybe...maybe he'd get there and she'd have Krauser dead already. Maybe.

The edge of the ledge where he stood showed the village beneath. Abandoned, without a doubt, and adobe in nature - from its whitewashed stone to its ancient feel. The Spanish influence remained in the close knit housing and cobblestoned streets. Torches bloomed color and flame into the dark.

Abandoned, maybe, but not empty.

Someone was here.

Leon leaped down and eased forward. An alarm blared - loud, closed, squealing.

And the voice of Jack Krauser stopped him.

"You always were the fastest little shit I ever knew."

Leon caught sight of him, high above on the parapets, pacing. Still in his fatigues but missing his shirt. A shoulder holster graced his massive chest and he held a machine pistol in his gloved hands.

Without missing a beat, Leon responded, "If you touched her, if you breathed on her if you so much as looked at her - I'm gonna rip out your eyes and skull fuck you."

Krauser laughed, delighted. "Yeah? I fucked her standing. You left her alone. I took her. I stripped her naked and filled her up. She's still dangling in my chambers dripping me down her perfect thighs. A screamer, ya know? But she liked it. She's bleeding all over the place from it. I came all over her face just for you too, comrade."

In one hand, Krauser had unestimated the situation.

The bullet hit him broadside, throwing him backward. It was fired from the hip and he'd forgotten that too it seemed.

Kennedy was, indeed, the fastest little shit he'd ever met.

Ducking, gasping, putting a hand to the weeping bullet hole in the side of his chest - Krauser laughed, "That it!? That's all she gets?! Turd! You pansy assed pit stain. I'm gonna enjoy like hell killing you. You want her back? Her and that bitch Ashley? You'll need the pieces I put around my playground here. One in the south, one in the north, and one in my pants - you little bastard. You'll need all three to open the door."

He looked around the edge of the pillar where he hid and Leon blew away a chunk of it the second he did. The bullet skimmed his face and left blood. Impressed, excited for the game of it, Krauser taunted, "Let's see how fucking good you are. How fast can you run, comrade? Before I fuck up your whole world."

Leon heard him retreat. He heard it.

He put his hand out in front of him.

Shaking.

A liar. He was a liar.

He couldn't control it. The shaking. It was all he knew when she was in his blood.

Krauser was a liar. A liar. He hadn't touched her. He hadn't touched her.

HE HADN'T TOUCHED HER.

It was a small hope but it was in there. He believed it in ways that had no name.

The ladder beside him led him up to the roof of the building. It was cold on the rooftop. The wind was something feral. It whipped and carried, taunting with its frigid breath.

The little piece as just lying there like a prize. Poof. Here ya go.

Leon palmed it and heard the sound of metal clearing leather.

Poof. Here ya die.

He turned and Jack was pacing behind him, watching him.

"Umbrella - is power. Power takes. Power absorbs. Power destroys. Umbrella - is what the world needs to make sense again. At first - it wasn't personal. It was business. It was what I believed. But you made it personal in that jungle. You took what I'd earned in blood."

"A man doesn't take what he wants, Krauser. And he doesn't earn it with fear and torture. I didn't take anything from you. The only thing you earned in that jungle was death."

"You weren't man enough to give it to me. You have no power. You have no strength. You were never good enough to serve the cause. Weak willed, human, holding on to feelings of freeing the world from terror. Stupid."

Leon tracked him, like a predator, like a jungle cat - "Am I? It's a fool that follows power, Krauser. Umbrella is done. Didn't you get the memo? I made sure of that. The two of you belong in bed together, they only knew how to get what they wanted by corrupting everything they touched. They never earned a damn thing but their own demise. This is where you go the same way as Umbrella."

"You can't stop power, Leon. And you can't save a world that is broken. We're going to rebuild it, remake it, reshape it into a place where the strong survive and the weak are annihilated. It starts here - with me taking your bitch, with me taking your country, with me taking your life."

They circled each other and Leon kept his voice calm, dispassioned, "You stupid bastard. What good will bringing back Umbrella do?"

Jack grinned, twirling his knife, "To restore order to an insane world, balance is necessary."

"You think a fucking psycho like you knows anything about balance?"

Krauser grinned, amused, "You think a conservative mind can ever chart a new course? Come on, you little asshole, you know better than that."

Krauser rushed him. Leon feinted back, missed the swing of his blade, and spun a roundhouse. It hit, Krauser stumbled, and Leon jabbed his knife twice in his sternum. Blood gushed, Krauser grunted and threw an elbow, and Leon ducked, rolled, and ripped his blade free.

Amused, bleeding and uncaring, Krauser eyed him. "Fast. I'll give you that. So was I on top your woman. She begged for it, crying and grunting like an animal. What do you fight for, comrade? Love? Love is for pussies. And I made hers mine."

Krauser rushed him again. Leon waited, calm somehow, in the middle of it all. There was no more fear for Jill. There was no rage in him with the taunting by the other man. The more he taunted, the calmer the world became.

It was a battle. It was what he was trained to do. It was the cage. And White. And the moment when he'd commanded, "Fight! OR DIE."

It was fight or die.

Leon rolled, his knife flashed as he missed the strike of Krauser's above his head, he slashed at his legs as he went. Blood again, bursting, spilling and painting the ground red.

Jack staggered, spun back, impressed now and watching him. "Come on!" He shouted, shaking the roof with it, "What do you fight for!?"

Leon rolled to his feet, tossing his knife to his left hand, "For all the people who can't, you asshole, for all the people who need it. For good. FOR RIGHT! And for _me._ Killing you? That's all for me _."_

Krauser raced at him, roaring. Leon threw himself left as he did, the world shifted with it, he tossed his blade _into_ his right hand as spun back. Krauser's blade passed an inch from his middle and his took the other man across the face in a pop of sound and skin.

The blood splashed across Leon's arms and chest as he kept on spinning and tucked into a flip out the other side of it.

Krauser crouched, a hand to his face. And he wasn't amused anymore.

He was livid.

And in the middle of the rage?

FEAR.

It stank on the rooftop of fear.

And none of it was Leon Kennedy's.

Leon flicked the blade, throwing blood on the whitewashed stone. "I wasn't good enough then. And now? You aren't. Come at me. Let's finish this."

Krauser backed up to the edge of the roof. His eyes flashed - and so did the grenade he tossed.

Leon ducked, covering his eyes, as the light exploded around them and Krauser escaped in the smoke of it.

Into the air, Leon shouted, "COWARD!"

He shifted, the cool air on his sweaty face was almost peaceful, and he was there again. There. In the jungle, in the cage, in the moment. There was nothing now. No Ashley, no bioterror, no fear - no Jill. Just the killer. The taste of it. The scent of it. The feel of it.

He was, once more, what they'd trained him to be: a machine.

Leon leaped down, boots striking on the cold stone. He tracked - ears, eyes, senses. A wolf. Aware.

What was it Jill was always saying?

AWARE.

Like it was in all caps.

Like it was a verb.

The world narrowed to a simple concept: kill or be killed.

The ladder was close. It was easy. Leon swung up it to the roof of the tower in the South. He could smell it. The trap. He could feel it.

Even as he knelt to pick up the piece of the snake so conveniently just lying there.

The small sound drew his attention. His gaze shifted. And there was Jill, bound, dangling from the edge of the roof where Krauser held her. He tilted his head, studying the other man.

"Nothing? No fancy puns. No silly words? What if I drop her?"

And he did.

He just...let go.

Jill tumbled, fast, bound and gagged and gasping.

The edge of the roof was sharp. Krauser jumped down, Leon tackled him the moment he landed and flipped right over him.

He leaped, airborne in the middle of nothing, and caught her as around the waist. They went across the divide and hit the neighboring roof on their sides. Jill grunted behind her gag as they skidded to a stop and smacked into the wall.

Yeah, she thought madly, amazing.

Leon jerked her gag free and cut loose her hands. "Stay back. Stay low." He pressed the pieces into her hands, "Get to the door and wait."

"I can help you." A hiss, desperate.

He shook his head. No softness on him now. Nothing. Just some kind of strength she'd never seen before. "No one can help me now. Go. I'll bring the last piece."

He rolled right and ran. Jill waited, breathing, and went left.

Krauser didn't wait long. He exploded onto the roof in front of him, mutated now, with an arm that was all slashing, stabbing, slicing blade - almost a scythe. He swept it cleanly through the air.

Leon threw himself backward, felt it swish in the air where he'd been, and flipped out to skid over the rotting boards.

Krauser eyed him, grinning, "How far do you think she'll get with you dead?"

"No more banter, you bastard, finish it."

Krauser rushed him. Leon swept low and took his feet.

As Krauser went down, Leon's blade swung high and slashed him clean across the face. He had matching slashes now on both sides. The blood smelled hot in the cold air, steaming when it rushed free.

Krauser kicked him from the ground and sent him rolling.

Leon felt it, he felt the air shift. Krauser leaped up and came down with an arching stab. A coup de grace, no doubt, meant to decapitate his opponent.

A bold move, an old one, and one that cost him. Leon rolled, he flipped, he spun through a back kick and turned. As the other man reeled, the knife sank into his chest and ripped like a zipper down his gut. He opened, screaming, as his intestines made their way into the cold air likes hungry snakes.

They gushed free, steaming and somehow odorless, the stench of open cavity lost in the freezing clime.

He gurgled, falling to one knee, and Leon kicked him to his back. "I wasn't good enough then..." He leaned over him, soaked in his blood, "And you aren't good enough now. You sold your soul for an arm, and a lie...they can't give you power. Power? It comes from being strong. And you've always been weak. You can't sell your soul and be strong, Jack...the only place you're going now is where you won't need one. Rot in hell, you ugly bastard. I made you a promise if you touched her, I keep my promises. That's what you do when you're strong."

He drove the knife into his former comrade's eye while the other man gurgled and bubbled blood down his face. No more words. He gasped, he trembled, and he died soundlessly on the cold rooftop of his playground.

Jerking his knife clear, Leon helped himself to Krauser's discarded machine pistol. The piece of the door was tucked neatly into his cargo pocket on his pants. With the body lying still, the smell of the intestines was finally reaching his nose.

Leon shuddered and turned away, hurrying to the roof's edge.

He threw his hand down and leaped free, landing easily at the base of the stairs.

Jill was where he'd told her to be. She was waiting at the door for the final piece of the chimera.

He moved toward her, soaked in blood, smeared in it - bathed in it. Baptized in it.

A loud sound drew her eyes and Jill glanced up to see the charges along the buildings. As she saw the first one, more became clear - that was Krauser's last hurrah. He was going to blow the place sky high on his death.

Jill encouraged, quietly, "Hurry. Now. Hurry, Leon."

He did. He put the piece in the door and waited as it rose. The first charge blew behind him. It was so low. It leveled the building where he'd faced Krauser. It threw flame and debris like hurried hands into the night sky.

Jill covered her ears and cowered a little at the sound of it.

He didn't. Not even a flinch.

The second charge blew and the world was shaking now like an earthquake. The door opened and his hand caught her arm to steer her through it. She went, watching his face even as the building where Krauser had housed her blew apart with the force of the blast.

Leon followed her through and closed the doors behind her. The sound of destruction lingered, soft now, almost like another world. They could hear the world exploding but there was no seeing it now. Surreal, Jill thought, to stand there while Rome burned - essentially.

The ground shivered still and spilled dust around them.

Leon stepped forward and she touched his arm, halting him. "Are you alright?"

Curious, he tilted his head at her. "Fine. Why?"

"You're covered in blood."

Ah.

He shook his head. No smiling. No joking. It scared her worse somehow than anything so far. "His. He never touched me."

He moved forward, paused, and turned back to her. His hand grabbed her chin and turned it to the light. She was fucking brutalized. Her face was bloody and swollen and bruised. The root of the rage in him burned in his guts. "He hit you."

"I've had worse." She tried to smile. He didn't.

"Did he touch you?"

They held eyes in the rising moonlight.

He asked again, low, vibrating, "Did he _touch_ you?"

It was interesting, in this moment, to be more afraid of him than she'd been of Jack Krauser. Krauser was a psycho. He was predictable in a way. She didn't understand this side of the man before her. Feral. Dark. Scary.

Is this what it looked like to be who he was? What he was?

What had it cost to be the best she'd ever seen?

Jill shook her head, quietly, "He was waiting for you. To teach you a lesson."

Leon shook his head and moved forward again, "He was never a teacher. He was a fool. Sheer fucking luck saved his life the last time I saw him. He was never better than me. Ever. He died trying to prove it."

God.

Her hand on his arm stalled him, briefly. She said, quietly, "Chris is coming. He's coming."

Leon tilted his head at her, curious like a dog, "He said no."

"What?"

"I told him to come get you. He declined."

Something in her belly hurt. They held eyes in the dark. "You tried to get rid of me?"

"No. I tried to save you. Since you were too stupid to save yourself."

The silence was so loud between them. She felt her stomach cramping a little with hurt and rage. And she whispered, "You think I'm stupid?"

His face...cold. Empty. Dead.

"We're wasting time here. I need to get Ashley before she turns."

He simply walked away.

She watched him move. She loved him, and she didn't know him at all. That was true. That part was still true.

If they survived this, what then? What? What kind of future did they have with what they did? What kind of training had he experienced to do what he could do? He was amazing, maybe the best she'd ever heard of. Maybe, in a few years, the best in the field. That came from training that wasn't gentle, that wasn't regulated, and that wasn't spoken about in polite circles.

The Nemesis - they called him. The Nemesis. She'd faced him once, his namesake, in Raccoon City. She'd nearly died doing it.

And that machine had been unstoppable, devoted to destruction, and served only the purpose of its creation: death.

Was that his purpose? Was that what the parasite would find inside of him to bond to?

It was the first moment she found herself desperately afraid of the man she'd come to love.


	22. Chapter 22

**XXI: Dark Passenger**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

The mountain curled upward into the long night. It was so cold Jill couldn't stop the shivering. In her ripped shirt, she was still freezing. It wasn't charming this time, it wasn't sweet - and he didn't offer to hold her to keep her warm.

He didn't offer to slow down either. He just kept pushing on.

If the bad guys blocked him, he slaughtered them - no thinking, no stopping, no pausing. He pushed on like a thing possessed. There was no flirting, no touching, no trembling kisses in dark corners. He barely looked at her at all as they moved.

And then? Only to encourage her to move faster.

The quiet between them was so loud. It hurt where it touched, leeching away the last of her good humor until she felt numb inside. He was so angry. Why?

But that felt wrong too. He wasn't angry. He just wasn't there.

The parasite?

She didn't know the answer.

She didn't know how to ask.

She didn't know who he was anymore.

He wasn't brooding. He wasn't pouting. He wasn't punishing her. He just didn't care that she was there. She was a nuisance. A pain in his ass. Something else he had to protect.

No. That wasn't fair either. He hadn't said anything like that. He hadn't said anything at all.

Her watch told her it had been three hours since he'd even spoken to her.

She turned a corner and he grabbed her so fast it stole her breath. He threw her against the wall and covered her with his body. She was frozen, staring at his closed eyes from inches away. She wanted to lean in and just...a little...on his feverish mouth.

But the rapid sound of .50 mm turret fire stopped her.

It hit the wall where he covered her, exploding in chunks of rock and dust. She grabbed his vest instead, clinging.

He breathed, "Yeah. Bad news. Want the worse news?"

"Worse news than a huge turret gun pinning us down?"

He almost smiled. Almost. But he answered, "Yeah. There's about fifty bad guys out there waiting to eat us both."

Holy hell.

The need to rub her nose to was fascinating to her. But she whispered, "What now?"

"We either turn back or we push on."

"How in the hell do we do that?"

"Magic maybe. You gotta a genie in a bottle we can call for a wish?"

She laughed a little, breathlessly, "I don't think my rubbing has that kind of power."

He lifted a brow. She didn't smile. He quirked his mouth, just a little and rolled off her.

Ok.

Not perfect, but better.

His gun in one hand, the machine pistol in Jill's, they leaned on the wall, listening.

She finally mused, "We can't stand here all night."

"Nope. I'm gonna risk it."

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" She grabbed his vest, holding on, "Nope. No way. You'll get your fucking head blown off."

Yep. Definitely a smirk now. "What a way to die."

She let out a single laugh, lightly, "...perv."

Her communicator buzzed. She blinked and lifted it to her ear.

And she heard the helicopter blades. They whomped. They threw air in a hurricane around them. It rose from the cliff in front of them like a leviathan from the depths of the darkness. It lingered, hovering, and the world was awash in whipping wind and sound.

And her ear said, "Good to see your face, Valentine. How about a boob?"

Oh.

Her laughter was loud and lost beneath the rolling wind. She grabbed Leon's forearm and squeezed. She laughed again and felt like, just maybe, they were gonna make it out alive - finally. FINALLY.

And Leon shook his head, derisively, "Redfield - about goddamn time."

"Sorry. Traffic. Looks like a pest problem back there. Let me take care of that for ya."

The helicopter lifted. It rose like a savior. It parted bad guys like Jesus with the Red Sea. The guns went off. The bodies started flying. The blood geysered into the air in bursts of red. Screaming, peppering plops of missing appendages, and the end of the turret gun. It erupted in a burp of fire and death.

And Jill's ear said, "There ya go, Kennedy, you pansy. Saved your ass...Jill?"

"Chris?" She was grinning, shaking her head, and never so happy to hear his voice.

"Fair trade says an ass for an ass. I saved yours...seems right I should get to see it."

She laughed and threw him the finger. His laughter was like a big hug. She loved him like crazy. The best damn friend she'd ever had.

Maybe better now.

As he had a tendency to show up, just in the nick of time.

The helicopter hovered and Leon spoke, quietly, on their frequency now, "Take her with you."

Jill shook her head, feeling the first barb of real anger at him. She said, "Chris?"

"Yup?"

"Go play and kill some bad guys and gimme a minute here."

"You betcha, dollface, be gentle on him - he's just a little white knight in a skinny body."

And now it was Leon with the finger.

And Chris' laughter in the air as the helicopter lifted off to leave them alone.

Jill clicked off her communicator. She waited. Leon started to, actually, be stupid enough to think he'd walk right by her and she shoved him against the wall. Surprised, he clicked off his communicator too.

Jill said, quietly, "That one was a warning. Let me be clear here, so there's no misunderstanding, this is my mission too. Mine. I came here to do my job. I let that go awry back there. I let you matter. That's on me. It's my cross to bear. And you're doing a damn fine job of making me reverse that opinion anyway."

He eyed her, quietly.

"Yeah. Easy enough to start disliking someone who treats you like a pain in the ass. But you have two choices here: you either keep working with me and we finish this. Or I put you on your ass and I finish it myself. You won't get rid of me. You won't talk Chris into doing it either. The thing about him? He's my partner, you asshole, not my father. Or my boss. I don't need some fucking white knight to take me away while you go fight the big bad monster. I slay dragons. I do that. And I don't need you to do ok it. I don't need you to protect me. And I don't need your permission."

She shoved him again and got a glare for it.

"Yeah. The first one was for you. THAT one was for me. You asshole."

She turned and hurried away, moving through the dead bodies. She touched her ear and said, "You little sneak, I saw my pack flashing. You listening in?"

"...depends." Said the helicopter.

"On?"

"On if you're looking for another ass to kick."

Jill laughed, loving him, "Not yours, handsome. Never. Thank you. For coming. I know you broke protocol to do it."

He was quiet for a long moment. And finally, "Fuck protocol. You alright?"

"...I am now."

She paused at the side of the drop and stared at the helicopter. He winked at her behind the glass of it. And he asked, softly, "He touch you?"

She tilted her head, smiling a little, "Which one? The bad guy or the big hero back there?"

"Either. Both. I'll kill them both."

And now she laughed, lightly. "Big squish. The first one is already dead. The second one? I can handle. But I salute the idea of it, my hero."

"There it is. What a tough broad you are."

"Most women object to being called a broad, Chris Redfield."

"Most women object to being called a squeeze too. And you can be mine later if you want."

"Your main squeeze?"

"Oh, yeah. With some whiskey and a cigar."

Jill snorted out a laugh, "You are so charming. Really. Who says no to that?"

His laughter comforted her as she ran on. She didn't wait for Leon. Why? He was such a jackass. She wanted to punch him in his well-meaning, misogynistic face.

She hurried down some stairs into the under cavern beneath the mountain fort where they found themselves and Leon hailed her, finally, "Jill - wait. Wait a minute. Shit. Slow down."

Jill stopped. She turned back, brows lifted. He held his hands out to the sides, showing himself unarmed, "I'm sorry. I...this is hard for me. For a couple reasons. I can't..."

He looked a little tortured which hurt her to see. She waited, watching him.

"I can't seem to stop it. This...emptiness? This feeling of just...nothing? It's like going numb. The harder I try to hold on to it, the more I lose it."

With sympathy now, she touched his arm at the elbow, gently, "The parasite?"

"I don't know. I don't know...shit. Maybe." He rubbed his face with his hands and it hurt her, it did, to see him struggle, "It started in the jungle, in the beginning, when they started training me. It gets worse when I try to shut down and stop myself from feeling anything. It's usually ok. Usually. But maybe it's the parasite in me...I can't turn it back on now. I'm stuck. Or buried in this..."

He paced a little, trying to find the words. "In this cold place that I go to kill a man. It's white there. Like snow. Or white noise. Empty. I'm trapped there. I don't know how to get out of it."

She gripped his shoulder holster. She turned him around. Her finger slid around the straps of his vest and pulled him down.

And she wasn't gentle.

"Touch me."

He shook his head, fighting her, "No! Jill, no. Krauser...after him touching you? How can you even want that?"

"Because he's not you. He's not you. And he didn't touch me!" She shook his vest, "He didn't rape me! Do you need me to say it out loud to hear it? He didn't rape me! You saved me from him. I'm not some girl in a shed. I'm not a victim. I'm ok. I'm here...and I _want_ you. From the moment I met you...that's all I want is you. Touch me. Now. Do it."

Jesus. His heart fed blood to his guts and his loins. He touched his mouth to hers, trembling, easy.

And she hissed, "Not like that. Like this."

She kissed him like she'd eat him. It was hungry and fast. It was a lightning strike in his mouth and his blood. He made a small noise of need and scooped her up against him.

Her back hit the wall. His hands shifted to her face as her legs hooked around his waist.

Their mouths parted, panting and his hands held her face to him to touch their foreheads. His eyes were closed and he was breathing, fast, shallow.

Jill whispered, "Feel that?"

Jesus.

He opened his eyes and she kept her face blank. Somehow.

Because his were all red.

But he answered, quietly, "Yeah. I feel that."

She shifted her hips, rolling against the feel of him.

And his hands slid around her throat.

She knew he could feel her pulse now, thundering under his thumbs.

She whispered, "You won't hurt me. I know you won't hurt me."

God.

GOD. He wanted to hurt her.

It was in him like poison. He wanted to choke her. He wanted to choke her and fuck her and watch her eyes while she died.

It scared him to death to feel it.

He shuddered and pressed her so hard into the wall it stole her breath. He thrust against her twice like he'd impale her with his body and stole her breath. But he stopped. HE STOPPED. And it hurt him t do it.

She saw that all over him.

His voice was low and gruff and between clenched teeth, "Don't, Jill. Don't. I'm on the edge here. I don't know what's me and what's not me."

Her heart hurt for him. She grabbed his face and kissed him again, eyes open - held onto the red of his - "I do, Leon. I see you. Feel me? That's what's under the empty. You can control it. And this. Because you're not alone. You're with me. I won't let you go without a fight."

He didn't know anything else in that moment but her. She was right. He wasn't alone. He was so used to that. To being alone. He was so used to facing it all that way. He wasn't here. He didn't want to be empty.

He wanted to feel her.

He kissed her again now, slow, pressing. She opened her mouth and let him in. It was all gliding and shivering now.

Wet and smooth. She watched his eyes bleed back blue. She saw it happen.

That was the key to the parasite it seemed, it fed off his feelings. Fast, desperate, fighting or fucking or dying. It fed the beast. The smooth, the soft, the gentle - it gave him the power to drive it back.

She whispered, "The thing in you? It can't have you. Because you're _mine._ "

That worked.

Like a charm.

It drove twin fangs of need and possession in his heart and his groin and brought his mouth to hers so hard, so wet and hungry, that she bounced in his arms and tried to see how much of him she could eat.

Her communicator buzzed in her ear and brought their mouths apart in ragged gasps.

"...one - gross. GROSS. Two - Kennedy? Get your hands off her ass before I kick you in yours. And three - I didn't come all this way to listen to you two suck face and groan. So can we get this show on the road? I'm getting bored. P.S. Jill?"

Her mouth pressed, so gently, on the swollen one in front of her. Her voice was breathy, "Yep?"

"Your taste in men is almost as bad as your taste in firearms."

Chris laughed. Leon whispered, "Kiss my sweet ass, Redfield."

And Chris signed off.

Leon set her down. She slid down his body and knew he was happy, REALLY really happy, she was there with him.

She breathed, "Don't let it get like that. Ever. Take the pills, touch me when you need to, whatever it takes."

He laughed, face pink, and stole her heart with it. "Right. Mid fist fight with Salazar maybe? Just - stop fighting and throw you down for a good dry hump on the dirty floor?"

Jill's eyes twinkled. She pictured it. And, oddly enough, was half turned on by the idea of him just...throwing her down in random places to hump on her.

"...survey says yes."

He laughed, cupping her face in one hand, "...god...what did I do without you?"

She considered it as they eased into the next chamber, "First guess? Rosie Palmer and her five friends."

They eased back into the night, hurrying now, but so very careful. It was enough surprises for a lifetime. The only good one? Was currently following them around in a huey.

The fun wasn't over for Chris either it seemed.

The way forward was three deep with regenerators.

Reanimators?

Leon could never remember the difference.

He waited, he listened, and he said, quietly, "Thermal imaging, aim for the hot spots."

A few minutes later, all was silence and Redfield came back to them, "Brilliant. Thanks."

"Yep. That's what I call backup."

They both chuckled and Jill gave him a long look. Leon shrugged and winked at her, "I can play nice when I want to."

"Can you?"

"Why not? I'm actually glad as hell that he's here."

And Chris laughed into their ears, "Ditto, kiddos. Let's finish it please. I have baseball tickets."

They ran for it. Hurrying over the rise toward the small chamber that waited beyond a steel sliding door. Leon considered the situation and mused, "So...maybe when this is over, we got get some drinks."

Chris snorted a little, "Why not? You like the Cardinals? I got box seats."

"You kidding? I'm in like N'sync."

Chris couldn't stop the laugh and Jill warned, "I told you he was corny..." She eyed him over the distance, and grinned, "But adorable."

And Chris answered, "Roger on the corny. Negative on the adorable."

Jill went to answer. She turned. She caught the flash of it.

She shouted in horror. Leon leaped on her and took them both to the ground to skid and hit behind the closest ragged ruined wall.

And the rocket propelled grenade took it's ill fated zip across the teeming dark sky.

But it wasn't headed for them.

It wasn't headed their way at all.

She screamed it. She fought against his hold and saw it on his face. And she whispered, "...no."

But there was no amount of denial in the universe to stop it.

It hit the chopper. It hit it broad side and set it ablaze in a handful of seconds. She screamed. She shoved against Leon to stop him from holding on.

She watched it swirl and fall in a blaze of glory.

And he shoved her into the wall, holding her there. Crouched, they were even in the swirling smoke. She shoved on him, shouting for Chris, shouting like he'd hear here.

Like he wasn't burning at the bottom of the craggy ravine.

Like she'd bring him back if he'd just hear her.

Leon held on, catching her struggling face. She fought him, shoving, screaming at him now, "Let GO! Let go of me! Go get him! Go down there and get him!"

He just shook his head. The regret on him. The pain of it. The sadness.

She didn't want to see it.

She shoved at him but he didn't let go.

She shouted but he didn't let go.

She listened but there was no answer in her ear anymore.

And the thunder grumbled, letting loose the cold, cold rain -filling the sky with all the tears she couldn't cry, for the best friend she'd ever had.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**  
_

 _...:(_

 _That's all I got._


	23. Chapter 23

**XXII: Glory**

* * *

 **Rojo la Muerte, Spain 2004**

The rain was soaking her. She kept sitting there in it. She seemed frozen.

Her legs wouldn't move.

Why?

What was wrong with her legs?

She kept staring at the curling smoke from the ravine. She should go over there. She should go look. She should.

She couldn't.

She just couldn't do it.

Finally, she whispered, "Can you-can you just...I..."

Her voice broke. Her body trembled. She closed her eyes and breathed, finding her center. "Can you? Please?"

She felt him move. She waited, listening to the pop and sizzle of the fire and the rain making steam together in the cold air. She waited.

And he said, "It's destroyed. In pieces. There's nothing left but flame and twisted metal."

The vomit tickled her throat. She hunched, huddling around herself, "...is he there?"

"...I can't see anything but the fire, Jill."

"Nothing?"

"Just the fire. And the melted metal."

"Just the fire?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

She shook her head, fast now, faster. "No. Please. Just...a minute. Please."

Jesus Christ.

The grief on her was palpable. It hurt him. It physically hurt him to see her. She hunched around her knees that she pulled up to her face. She hugged them, holding on. She shook, making small sounds of pain.

And Leon saw the love of it all over her.

He might have turned away and let her feel it. Maybe he would have done that. But she just...broke apart. And it nearly killed him.

He moved. He crouched and pulled her arms. She shook her head, denying, and it didn't matter. He moved between her knees and pulled her to them to mirror him. And he just...held her.

Tight.

She gripped the back of his vest. She put her face against his neck and whispered, "Don't...please. Don't."

And he whispered, gruff now, "What? Don't what?"

"Don't look at me."

God. What a world they lived in. When you couldn't even grieve without someone judging you. He wasn't. He was just trying to hold her.

So, he offered her the only way he knew how to grieve. "Hit me, Jill."

"What?" Her breathed hitched, hard. "What?"

"Hit me. Trust me. And do it."

She hesitated and then she struck his back with her fist. It thumped. And he coached her, "Again. Harder."

Her closed fist hit again, rapping against his vest, strong and angry. "Yeah. Like that. Hit me again - and mean it!"

She grabbed his vest in her hands and jerked, shaking him. She shook him so hard his teeth snapped together. She struck her fists against his chest and slapped him. Admittedly, the slap hurt, but in a good way. A good way. She was purging it. She was drawing the poison from the wound.

She struck him, breath hitching fast and desrepately, "You let him die." Quiet, looking for someone to blame. They both knew that.

He accepted it, hard and painfully, "Yeah, I did. I did that. Me. Hit me again."

She slapped his face so hard it rang. It hurt her hand. She hitched out four hot breaths and her face collapsed, "...I'm sorry. Oh, god, I 'm sorry." She fell against him, clinging and his arms wound, tight.

"No, sorry, sweetheart. No sorry. Get it out. He's dead because of me. I got him killed."

She shook her head, shaking in the circle of his arms, "No! No. No. No. Not you. Not you. Never you. Krauser...Saddler...not you. I'm sorry I hit you. I'm so sorry...I want him back."

His heart hurt but he kept holding on, "I know you do. I know it. Let it out. I'll protect you. Let it out, Jill. It's just me. Just me. I'm right here."

She made a small noise and shook, like she had a fever or something. "Ok...but don't...let go...for just a minute."

He didn't. Even when she let go and wept, so, so, so quietly against him, hunched and grieving, he didn't let go.

He kept holding on until the rain stopped.

And there was nothing left but the quiet rasp of her breathing.

* * *

She followed him, quiet now, and so lost.

It broke his mother fucking heart to feel her behind him, so very silent. She was broken or something. Where the fear failed. Where Krauser failed. Where running and nearly dying had failed.

Losing Chris Redfield had broken her.

It was like she was dead inside or something.

Leon eased open a door and cleared it.

In the center of the room, an enormous tank of some kind - and bound inside, asleep and unaware, was Ashley Graham.

He started toward the tank, quickly, and the voice stopped him, "You fool. You great fool. You are cultivating a great power within you. And yet...you run toward death like a man possessed."

Leon studied Saddler, in his shimmering purple robe, "Give me Ashley. Now. Or I'll show you what kind of power I can cultivate."

"Soon? You'll join her. Let me show you what "power" you so lightly refute."

He just...moved. Although moved was the wrong word. He zipped through the air so fast he was simply a blur. His hand hit, palm and heel, right into Leon's sternum so hard it was like being drop-kicked by a robot or something. His body crumpled around the pain and it lifted him off his feet to throw him backward. He hit the tank where Ashley dangled, felt his spine protest, and collapsed in a grunting heap to the floor.

Saddler smiled, giggling like a schoolgirl, and he opened his hand.

Nothing really.

But everything.

It was fire in his blood. It was fire in his bones. It was lava in his brains and lightning in his nerves. It felt like touching electricity with a bare hand on a soggy day. Leon jerked, losing his gun, on all fours like an animal.

And he...screamed.

Jill, outside the door, had never heard anyone in her life scream like that.

She kicked the door wide open. She was firing as she walked, face expressionless, pistol jerking in her hands. It was echoed, loudly, by the running click of heels on the overhang above them - and the answering pistol spray of Ada Wong.

Saddler was thrown back by the barrage of it and Jill slapped the button on Ashley's tank in the thick of the gunfire. She tumbled forward and Jill caught her against her side, keeping the pistol on Saddler. Ashley trembled and slumped a little, "Jill?"

"You ok?"

She nodded, shaking on her legs but she let go and stood on her own. "Oh, god, Leon!?"

Jill said, coolly, "He's fine. Leon? Get up. Now."

At first? He didn't even move. He was so hurt. It was a terror like nothing she'd ever felt to see it. Everything, all of it, this wasn't how he went down. Not now.

NOT NOW.

He crawled a little, scaring her, but Jill kept her face empty, "Now, Leon. Up. Move!"

She grabbed his vest with her free hand and jerked him up. He went, stumbling, and Ashley looped an arm around his waist.

From the balcony, Ada called, "Go. Now. Hurry."

Jill nodded, backing up. Saddler turned to her, grinning, "I will enjoy watching you die screaming."

Jill's grin was wolfish, "You took the words outta my mouth, you son of a bitch. You enjoy killing my partner?"

"Flies...often need to be swatted."

Jill shot him in the face while he grinned. He shrieked, recoiling. He lifted his hand to, likely, take control of Leon again and she shot him in that hand until it was hamburger and blood. He backed off and Ada called again, "NOW JILL! GO!"

She shot at the barrels above them. The balcony rumbled.

And Jill ducked free into the alcove just as it all came down in a tumble of fire and destruction.

She kicked open the doors into the next room, covering as Ashley helped Leon forward. They moved, swift and steady, and Jill asked, voice hard, "Leon? I need you to focus, please. Where? The room on the map you saw, where is it?"

He was bleeding from his nose. He was bleeding from his right ear. She was so scared it hurt. But he whispered, "Right. Two doors down."

She nodded, easing them all forward. "Stay with me, Leon. Please."

He breathed, rough, harsh and low, "...leave me behind and get her out. I'm done, Jill. Leave me here."

Ashley shook her head, holding him up, "Idiot, piece of ass, stop saying dumb shit."

Jill instructed, sternly, "Keep walking, Leon. That's all I need from you now. Keep moving."

There was a commotion. Too close. The door swung out and hit Jill broadside. She was thrown into the opposite wall.

The man with the popping, buzzing shock rod emerged and swung the rod at her. Ashley shouted in fear, Jill scrambled to get her gun up, and Leon...moved.

Move, she said. He moved. He tackled the man and took the hit. The rod hit him in across the neck and sparked, it popped and crackled so loudly it hurt the ears. Ashley screamed. Leon's body jerked and jumped and he kept on going. He caught the man's face and kicked him in the back of the knee.

The man went down, Jill got her gun up, and Leon broke his neck in a swift jerk - still jerking like a landed fish.

Ashley grabbed for him. The body flopped and the rod sparked on the floor.

Leon went down. He just...went to one knee and Ashley couldn't do anything but catch him before he hit his face.

She shouted in fear, Jill whipped the strap for the machine pistol off her chest and held it out to Ashley stock first, and the girl met her eyes. After a moment, Jill said, "I need you, Ashley. Now."

Ashley took the gun, face determined.

Jill looped Leon's arm over her shoulders. She rose, taking his weight against her. And she said, loud and commanding, "Walk for me, Mr. Kennedy. One foot at a time. You can do this. We're almost there. I will get you there. But I need you to help me. A little further."

He slumped, breathing hard. And she turned her face against his ear. She breathed, low now and soft, "A little further. Please. Stay with me."

He whispered, "I'll only slow you down."

Jill kept her face strong and determined for the girl shaking like a leaf with them. But she spoke against his ear, desperately, "...don't. Please. I'll never make it without you. I can't do it alone. Please, Leon. Stay with me."

Jesus.

His brain was all fog and dark. He was dead. He knew it. He could feel it in his bones. His body was toast. The thing in him had won the war here. Didn't she see that?

And she said it again, pleading, "Please. I need you."

Damnit. He rallied, the best he could, clinging to her and forcing what he had into his legs. He took as much of his own weight as he could.

She kissed his sweaty cheek, keeping him in her iron grip," ...stay with me. A little longer."

His face was so pale. Scary. Scary. Sweaty and shaking. But he met her eyes, trembling, and said, "I'm with you."

Jill nodded, voice strong and low, "Ashley?"

"Yeah." Strong. The girl too. STRONG.

"Cover us."  
"You got it."

Jill moved as quick as she could. The door before their destination was thrown open. Two flail waving men in armor decided to join their party.

Ashley squeaked and shot, unloading on the first one through the door. Jill used her free hand to rip Leon's Magnum from his thigh and put two in the face of the second.

He whispered, weakly, "...nice."

And had her smiling, "I have my moments. Stay with me, Leon. Stay with me."

Their song, it seemed, and what he used to push forward.

The hallway curved, and three ganados in coveralls and masks blocked their way. Ashley shouted with rage now, "YOU ASSHOLES! GET OUTTA THE WAY!"

Jill shot the first one, Ashley peppered the second with a wild spray of fire, and the third made a grab for them.

No hesitation. No thought.

Leon kicked him square in the balls.

He went to his knees squealing, and Leon drove a kick from the hip into his face to send him to his back. Jill shot him, point blank in the face, as he lay on the floor.

She felt him slump harder on her now. His blood spilled hot and red down the side of her face. She whispered, "...you bad ass."

Gruff, weak, he whispered, "...I have my moments too."

"The Nemesis never stopped either."

And he breathed, "...until he died."

And scared her to death with it.

He almost made it. She felt the minute his body gave up. He went dead weight against her. She staggered but held on, dragging him. Ashley raced ahead to open the door.

Jill shouted at him, "No! NO! Leon?! Get up...GET UP. Please."

Ashley looked like she might vomit. "Can I...? What? What can I do!?"

"HOLD THE DOOR!" Jill hoisted his torso over her back and shoulders, carrying him like she'd done in the shed.

Together, they got him into the room. A huge machine was there. A huge...laser? What the hell was it?

It was something. It was the only fucking chance he had.

They got him up in the chair beneath the three enormous spear tips that seemed to be promising to impale him as likely as they were to heal him.

Jill put her fingers to his throat and found his pulse. Strong. Somehow.

She kissed his mouth, hard, "Not today, Mr. Kennedy. Not today. Ashley! Hurry!"

Jill gestured and Ashley ran to the console. She pressed buttons, following directions.

Jill strapped him in, she took his vest and dumped it on the floor, her hands shaking. He was bleeding from his left eye now. She shook her head, denying it, and Ashley called, "Jill?"

"Yeah?"

"It says if the egg hatched, the procedure may kill him."

"I don't care. He's dead anyway if this doesn't work. Do it."

Ashley hit the button.

The room lit white and hot. Jill stood there, her hand gripping his wrist. She didn't let go.

Even when he...screamed. Even when he bucked and jerked and bowed. Ashley made a sound of fear and huddled a little around the idea of her turn. Leon tossed, fighting it, like he'd fought so hard against thing in him. He fought.

And Jill's voice said, firmly, "Let it go. Let go. Don't fight. For once? Leon, don't fight. Let it be easy. Let it be over."

She pressed her mouth to shaking cheek. She breathed, "I'm here. I'm here."

There was a pop, like a balloon bursting, and his body flopped back in the chair. He turned his head and she leaned down to touch her forehead to his. The lasers burned, the lasers shifted, the radiation destroyed- attacking the parasite and driving pain through every nerve in his body.

She whispered, "Look at me."

And he did that too. Her hand slid and gripped his, glove to palm. She felt him tighten, felt him jerk - but he was quiet now, watching her. Quiet, as he let the pain wash instead of burn.

And Jill smiled, softly, "Yeah...better?"

He tensed, he still stiffened, but he whispered back, gruff, hoarse, and weak, "...kiss it, make it better."

She laughed, lightly, and leaned forward. Another pop, a crunching sound, like a bug getting smooshed. And she kissed him, soft, tender.

The machine whirred. The lights died. And the console beeped loudly.

Leon whispered, quietly, "Yeah. Better."

And Ashley called, "...it's done. It worked. It WORKED."

The cuffs released. Leon shifted and Jill caught him as he nearly fell off the table. She watched his pale face. "How bad?"

He trembled, scaring her, "Not good. You should leave me here. Get her out, and leave me here."

Jill shook her head. She guided him to the floor beside the chair and helped Ashley get strapped in. She hit the button, Ashley grunted and jerked, and Jill talked her through the pain of it. The girl didn't scream. She just made small pained noises.

It was over quickly for her, meaning the egg hadn't hatched.

Jill knelt on the floor as Ashley slid to her feet.

Leon was slumped to one side, breathing slow, but shaking. Ashley whispered, "Is he gonna die?"

Jill shook her head, watching him, "He's exhausted. He's badly hurt. He needs sleep and recovery."

Ashley glanced at her face, "We need him."

Jill nodded, face empty. "Yeah. Yeah, we need him. Cover the door, honey, ok? Let me do this."

"Ok." Ashley spun, pistol up, "PROTECT THE PIECE OF ASSSSS!"

She sang it and had Jill laughing a little. She was something. Bravest chic alive, hands down.

Jill shifted into him. She tilted his face up where it was slumped on his shoulder. He opened eyes ringed in dark circles and smiled, lightly, "Hey."

"Hi," Jill returned stroking his face, "You tired?"

"...not that. Not exactly."

"Weak?"

He shivered, eyelids quivering, "Yeah...I'm sorry."

Touched, aching, Jill kissed his mouth, "No sorry, you brilliant thing, not from you. But I am, Leon. I'm sorry."

He smiled, softly, "For what?"

"For this." She drove the adrenaline into his chest.

He jerked, gasping, and his hands caught her arms to squeeze.

She watched it happen. She saw it surge. She watched him jerk and shiver. His eyes flared and he shifted. He kissed her, all energy now. And Ashley shouted, "YO! None of that! I'm sick of this goddamn place! The rain in Spain does NOT fall mainly in the plane! It has been raining in this shit pit for days. DAYS. I want my bed, a pizza, three hours in the bathtub and a piece of ass!"

She considered Leon. "Unless you are willing to give me one of those, I need you to get me home to get all of them. NOW."

Leon grinned, he winked at Jill, and he rolled to his feet.

Ashley considered him again and sighed, "Thank fucking god. Here." She tossed him the pistol. "All yours, hot stuff. I'm retiring from guard duty."

Jill traded him for the Magnum. Leon shifted to the lead.

And he said, "...both of you. Thank you. A shitty thing to just give you words, but it's all I got."

Ashley mused, quietly, "I accept all the aforementioned things as copious forms of payment."

Leon laughed, lightly, and eased out of the door.

Jill guarded the rear as they moved, hurrying toward the farthest door.

They hurried faster when an alarm sounded somewhere to signal something bad. The world spun red with warning lights. The sound of a voice split the air.

"Self-destruct system activated -"

And Leon shouted, "Are you fucking KIDDING me!?"

"-Please evacuate the area immediately."

"These god damn people and blowing shit up!" They hit a small lift and leaped on.

Leon hit the button and up they went. It shivered, taking them into the sky.

And to a bridge that showed an empty helipad.

...and the dangling body of Ada Wong.

Jill shouted in rage. She tugged her knife and threw it, without thinking. It sliced the rope free that held the spy suspended.

Ada tumbled into some tarps and grunted. But she seemed ok.

Leon called, "Ada? You alright?"

Ada said, tongue in cheek, "I've been better."

Saddler clapped, emerging from behind a large pile of steel pipework.

He opened his palm and gestured.

Ashley backed away but didn't cower. Leon laughed, lightly, "Got any other tricks there, David Copperfield? Because that one's getting old."

"You have taken away my gift it seems. You are a formidable force. I am grieved to lose you as my bodyguard. It matters not really, the world will soon be ours. If we can't get it through you, I will simply claim it behind you. I will infiltrate your government, I will claim your shores through subterfuge and fear. I will win. Because I cannot be stopped. And the cleansing will occur."

"Enough heehawing, you stupid bastard," Jill shouted, "It's time we cleansed the world...of you."

Oh.

It was corny.

It was PERFECT.

He LOVED this girl.

Saddler opened his mouth, from within it, an enormous eyeball erupted. It spilled like a nasty spider from that opened mouth until Saddler's entire head was gone and the muscled, naked, reddened sinew and stabbing claws of his new appendages dragged the useless shell of his body around as it moved.

It's eyeball, enormous like a soccer ball, was surrounded by blades like scythes, pincers like a lobster almost, snapping and slicing air at them.

Jill whispered, "...he killed my guy."

And Leon tilted his head, "What do you think? An "eye for a guy"?"

Jill's voice carried, quiet and hard, "Oh...you're speaking my language."

Ada grabbed Ashley and shoved her, hard, "Go! Take the elevator back to the bottom! Wait there! HURRY!"

Ashley ran for it, no questions.

Jill and Leon rolled apart at the first swipe of one massive leg.

Jill ran for the ladder to the top of the bridge. She raced for it, listening to Leon unload on Saddler with his Magnum. She watched the dangling crane above them, holding the weight of a pile of those steel beams. She ran for the lever to send them swinging and Ada whistled.

Leon turned and she dropped the knife in her hands from the pillar she was climbing.

He caught it, studied it, and realized it was Krauser's.

Ada smiled, winked, and kept on climbing up the pillar.

Apparently, the end of Jack hadn't happened with him. It was, it seemed, courtesy of his former comrade in arms - twice. Amused, Leon twirled the blade in his hand.

The bitch in red made for a powerful ally.

The grind of sound drew his attention. He backed up, flipped to miss the swing of the beams as they came at him, they struck Saddler broadside, throwing him out and away. Jill shouted and signaled, Saddler went down in a heap, and his eye was exposed and twitching.

Leon dropped it down toward the ground, blade pointing; he threw himself forward. He ran like he'd never run in his life.

Jill covered him from the top of the rise. Ada covered him from the pillar above them.

He leaped and swung, flawless, fast - and drove his knife into that trembling eye. Two-fisted, arms thrusting, shouting with rage - it struck, it burst fluid in a filthy rush, Saddler bucked and screamed, throwing him off to roll over the ground, and Jill shot him twice in his gushing eye while he struggled.

Saddler threw a leg at him, Leon felt it hit full in the chest, and he tossed up to roll away into a puddle of rainwater.

Ada fired on the scrambling spider, driving it back from ending him with a leg to the head while he gained his feet.

It turned on Jill, dancing, and racing at her.

Leon shouted. He ran. He climbed up its retreating back as it threw its legs at her and tried to eviscerate her with its slicing pincers. She rolled, leaping, diving and quick.

Leon mounted it like a jockey on a racehorse, felt the slice of pincers on his forearm spill blood, and he stabbed it clean in the eye again.

It reared. It roared.

It tossed him loose in a whip of movement.

He hit the ground, rolling away, and Jill jerked him to his feet.

She whispered, "Finish it."

And Leon turned back.

From the top of the pillar, Ada whistled, high and loud. A clunk.

A thud.

And an RPG lying two feet from them on the wet metal.

She called, smiling sweetly, "A gift from me, to you. A goodbye from the sky?"

Jill laughed.

She had to.

She kinda...liked...Ada Wong.

A great mystery.

Jill grabbed it. She dropped to one knee in the wild wind around them. Leon stood to her left and slightly behind and instructed, quietly, "...do it."

And Jill whispered, "Game over, you stupid son of a bitch."

She pulled the trigger. The rocket whooshed. The rocket rushed.

And Saddler screamed.

For about fifteen seconds.

Leon jerked her up by her arm and threw her against the wall of the bridge, covering her with his body as Saddler erupted - throwing blood, guts, and pieces of steaming shit all around them.

Something wet and stinky plopped in his perfect hair. It slid down his face. Jill pulled it free and let it fall with the squelch of gross goodbye.

And a helicopter rose behind them with the magnificent legs of Ada Wong below her exquisite face. She gestured with the sample in her palm, pouting a little, "Sorry. Truly. But I am...what I am."

Jill watched his face and saw him shake his head and laugh, lightly, "Popeye?"

"...a spy, it seems. And one you can never trust. Leon? A pleasure."

She tossed a set of keys with a happy little bear. He caught them, brow lifted.

And she said, "You've got fifteen minutes. Go back down, head down the narrow path to your right and veer north. Get to the caves. Get the hell out of here. Ms. Valentine?"

Jill tilted her head back, looking up at her, "Ada."

"Good luck. I've enjoyed our time together. And I rarely enjoy anything at all. A warning...Wesker has plans that even I can't begin to understand. Don't underestimate him. And don't, ever, trust any intel that falls into your lap."

The helicopter lifted, the wind whipped, and it swooped away into the rising dawn.

They didn't linger.

They ran for it.

A mad dash down a mountain. The explosions chasing them into the dark.

Ashley shouted in horror as they ran into the dank cavern. The scent of salt and sea was refreshing in the craggy darkness. The slapping clap of waves showed their escape route.

And the reason for Ashley's horror.

It was a jet-ski.

Just one

And made for two people.

Jill shouted, "GO! For god's sake! Get her out of here!"

Ashley shouted in denial, "NO!"

And Leon roared, "Are fucking kidding me!?"

"GO!" Jill shoved him, harshly. He stumbled, "She's the reason! She's the mission! Save her! Now! Or this was all for nothing! GO!"

Ashley grabbed her arm, "We'll all fit! Come on! Please!"

"We won't!" Jill shoved the girl now too. "GO! PLEASE! Make this easy for me! Make this easy, Leon. Go...please. I already lost Chris. I can't stand it if this place takes you too! Please, Ashley, please...it matters. What you do? Here? Now? It matters. You matter. And she needs you...make this easy...and go."

Ashley was weeping, shaking. She kept shaking her head.

And Leon kept standing there, staring at her.

Jill said it, soft, determined, as the cave shook around them, "Please. Do your job. And save the girl."

He backed up toward the jet-ski. Ashley whispered, "No. LEON!? No."

But he said, quietly, "Get on the jet-ski, Ashley. Now."

She hesitated and he shouted, "NOW! GO!"

She ran, sobbing, and leaped on the back of the jet-ski. Jill stood there, trembling. She whispered, softly, "Thank you. Go. Hurry. Please."

He backed up another step. He moved to the jet-ski and hesitated. She saw it. She felt it.

She called, "GO! Leon! GO! Please!"

He shook his head, he turned back. He moved toward her and she backed up now, shaking her head, "No! There's no time! There's no time!"

Ashley shouted, "YEAH! Get her!"

How was this happening? She felt like a bad guy about to get kidnapped or something.

She tried to run. Which, might have been funny, if it wasn't so sad.

His hand caught her ponytail to spin her around. Jill slapped at him, "Stop! Leon!"

He grabbed her wrist and jerked. She shrieked and went up over his shoulder, kicking.

It didn't matter. He was just that much stronger than her. She'd shot him full of pure energy after all. He held her flailing legs still and slapped her ass, "Stop fighting, Valentine. You're still going."

Ashley shifted on the jet-ski, shouting, "Yeah! Good! Yeah! Come on! I'll go all Titanic and ride on the door! We'll take turns right? HURRY!"

Jill shouted, hanging upside down, "We won't make it! You idiots! You'll get us all killed!"

Ashley yelled, "Good! At least it'll be all together!"

Stupid, adorable, loyal girl.

There was a rushing roar of an engine. There was a whipping swirl of sound. The cave shook with explosions above them.

And from the mouth of their exit, the little jet-ski came racing.

It wasn't possible.

It was NOT possible.

But there it was.

Because Chris Redfield was zipping toward them. He was bloody. He was bruised. He was singed on the left side of his uniform.

And he was ALIVE.

Jill shouted, struggling. And Leon dumped her back to her feet.

There was no time for anything. No time to say what the fuck!? No time to cry.

She leaped on the back as the jet-ski cornered and treaded water. She grabbed his waist and Leon whipped his jet-ski in an impressive circle to join them. They gunned engines.

They threw water.

Chris shouted, "Let's see how fast you are on that piece of shit, Kennedy." And he laughed.

Leon gave him the finger. Ashley hooted out a laugh.

Something shook the ceiling so great chunks of rock tumbled down to try to kill them.

And they shot off in tandem into the dark.


	24. Chapter 24

**XXIII: Nirvana**

* * *

The spill of sunlight on water. The hum of engines.

Four pairs of blue eyes in the swirling sea air.

Ashley grabbed Jill's hand and squeezed it, "I'm gonna miss you, you bitch."

What a girl she was. Jill laughed, a little hoarsely, "Me too, you brat."

Chris treaded water on, eyeing Leon over the rippling waves, "Get her back to the west side of the village. I have a team there set to extract you."

Leon and Jill? Not even able to look at each other. Too painful?

Too something.

Leon remarked, "What about you?"

"There's a ship over the horizon waiting for us. Technically? I'm breaking about a dozen international laws being here. I can't be seen on the mainland unless you want to see my ass, literally fried for war crimes."

Leon laughed, lightly, "How? The helicopter? How'd you make it out?"

"Two seconds before that RPG hit? I was already out the door. The blast got me in the commotion. I ended up in the water and on fire...but..." He shrugged, laughing, "This ass is already on fire anyway, according to Valentine back there."

Jill laughed and hugged Chris hard enough he grunted, "Easy, cheesy, I'm sore as hell."

And Jill teased, "Wuss."

Ashley, sweetly, queried, "I second the hot ass remark. You want to find a quiet place and get a little overtime in with it?"

Chris blinked, glanced at Leon, and coughed a little. "How old are you, sweetheart? You could be my kid, I think."

Ashley chuckled, lightly, "Old enough to know better, young enough to do it anyway."

Jill laughed, loud and high, "Ashley - you are a big whore."

"I am. But that guy you're clinging to, you see him right? He's all muscles and big blue eyes. I ain't seen another man but hot stuff here in days. I gotta take my shot girl, I could be dead tomorrow."

Chris laughed, delighted, "I gotta pass on the overtime, seeing as you're the President's daughter, and I don't think it's physically possible to fuck on a jetski. But I am, surprisingly, aggrieved to say no."

Ashley snorted, "Somehow I figured you'd say that. But it never hurts to ask."

Leon laughed, "It's only impossible for a clumsy ass clown to fuck on a jetski, Redfield."

Chris gave him the finger with a chuckle.

Leon glanced at Jill. She glanced at the jetski. He figured they were both thinking the same thing.

He bobbled his brows. She grinned and shook her head.

Chris whipped the jet-ski around, watching the choppers in the coming dawn, "That's my cue to hightail it. Kennedy - you look like a girl with a bad haircut, you're as skinny as an anorexic supermodel, and you can't hit shit when you shoot...but you kept my girl alive. So...you're probably ok."

Leon lifted a brow, face reflective, "That is...the most god AWFUL thanks, anyone has ever given...ever. EVER."

Chris laughed, he shrugged, and Leon added, "I would expect nothing less - from a hairy faced gorilla with no fashion sense and less social graces than a retarded tyrant."

His eyes drifted to Jill. Hers stayed on him, trying to - what? Transmit a thousand things in a single look?

Something like that.

And Chris gunned the engine, threw water all over Kennedy and had him sputtering, and shot off into the horizon laughing like a loon.

Ashley, grinning, mused, "I like him. He single?"

Leon shook his head, watching Jill turn her head over her shoulder, keeping her eyes on him until she was gone.

And he muttered, laughing, "...women."

Shooting off into the sun, Chris inquired, "You tagging that girly haired prima donna?"

Jill laughed, sighing, "Why, you want him for yourself?"

Unflappable, Chris laughed, "I sure do love you, Valentine. Just sayin."

"Don't die on me anymore, Redfield. Or I'll kick your hairy ass."

She clung to him, watching Leon's jetski shoot off toward the mainland.

And she knew she sure did love Leon Kennedy too.

* * *

 **Fonseca de villa, Ibiza - 2004**

She laid on her bed, watching the swirl of the ceiling fan above her.

There'd been no time for anything but debriefings. No time for anything but goodbye.

Long days, long nights, long times spent in rooms with a blur of faces and facts. Who? When? Why? And what it meant to National Security. Some rat faced fucker named Simmons with too many questions about Ada Wong.

Some stupid man who kept insisting they be kept apart while they were examined for infection.

And then?

It was just done.

She was on a plane. She was in a conference room with the BSAA. She was in a bathtub with bubbles.

She glanced at her television, throwing the news at her.

What day was it?

Who knew.

She was just...lying here, trying to figure out what came next.

She rolled over, staring into the rain from her balcony. A dreary day.

A dreary girl on a bed.

She had the french doors open anyway to let in the cool breeze off the ocean.

She missed Ashley. She missed Ada Wong...ok. No on the Ada missing. But yes to the Ashley.

But it kept her from admitting what she was really missing here.

She sighed.

And drifted to sleep with the sound of the rain.

* * *

The flicker of the television woke her up. She sighed, shifting in her warm blankets.

She rolled over and gasped, a hand flying to her mouth.

She wasn't alone on the bed.

He was lying there beside her, watching her sleep. Shaking a little, she lowered her hand. "How'd you get in here?"

And he smiled, sharp and wolfish, "...who's the master of unlocking now huh?"

Her heart was pounding so hard. She touched his bruised face. She skimmed her eyes down and shivered.

Because he was lying there watching her sleep...wonderfully, beautifully, perfectly naked.

Better, she thought madly, BETTER than she'd thought he'd be. Jill breathed, shivering, "What took you so long?"

And had him laughing, eyes hooded, hand lifting to play lazily at her breast over her nightgown.

"I'm here now. Wanna play darts?"

She laughed. She just laughed.

She fisted her hands in his hair and dragged him over.

He rolled atop her and she spread her legs, bicycling them to get the covers off her. She was in some nightgown that was little more than cotton with thin straps.

He shoved it up her thighs and tugged, ripping it off her to throw it away.

She scrambled, crushing him against her to feel all his naked flesh rub from tits to toes on hers. They both moaned, groaned, and kissed so desperately that they ran out of air doing it.

He laughed, wheezing with it, as they pulled apart.

He gasped, "Wait...wait...let me slow down here. We should...this should matter, Jill...I wanna..." She was grabbing at his hips and reaching between her legs to fist him in her hand. He bucked into her tugging grip, "Jesus...I wanna make it sweet for you...holy god..."

Jill pumped him crazily, shaking like a leaf, his hands dropped to anchor beside her head, pinning her to the bed with his body. She angled him at her and shivered, gasping, "Shut up, Leon please. PLEASE. Shut up."

He shut up.

She pulled her hand back and grabbed his ass. He whispered, "Jilly, honey, it might hurt."

"GOOD."

His blood fired like lava. He rubbed at her body, had her mewling, and she gasped, "Shut up. Please. Just fuck me. Now."

He laughed, shaking for her. She liked the shaking. She kissed him with alot of tongue. She leaned up and on her elbows and said, "Here...let me watch you...let me see it when you go inside me."

...his brain fell out his ear and probably blew up or died or fried like bacon. He didn't care. This girl had been fucking with his world since he'd met her. He was about to make her his world. Leon leaned up on his arms like a pushup to let her see. He watched her face and rubbed himself all over her like a pervert. She gasped, she bowed, she shook and grabbed at his face to hold on.

Her eyes? Stayed right on their junk rubbing together.

Dirty little thing that she was. He loved her. He watched her face. He waited for her to shiver one more time.

And he thrust into her so hard it echoed in the little room.

Jill looped her legs around his flanks, bucking up to take him. "Oh, god, oh my god..."

Apparently, _she_ was allowed to talk.

Undone, dying, laughing with it - he jerked her face back for his tongue and just..rode her. He rode her body while she quaked and jerked and rose to meet him. The bed squeaked, her hands shifted to grab his face.

She tightened like she'd come and he slowed down. He eased back. He moved in her smooth and easy now, pleasing them both.

And he did a push up atop her to see her face. She was all beat up. Bruised. Bandaged. Beautiful. Holy god, she was beautiful.

She gasped, stroking his sides and his back, head thrown back - watching him. He was all beat up. Bruised, bleeding a little under the bandage on his cheek where Krauser had cut him, blushing with blooms of color on his cheek where he'd take a hit, pebbled over his neck and collarbone where he'd taken the shock rod. He'd scar, no doubt about it. He wasn't flawless anymore.

No.

He was, "Beautiful." And she breathed it, reverently, stroking his face. "Leon...I could lie here forever looking at you."

They moved together, blending, slow now and sweet. Tender, touching faces and mouths and feeling each other. He trembled and stole her heart.

Jill moaned it now, shaking around him, "Oh, god, I'm insane for you. Nuts. Stupid. Lost. What are you doing to me?"

He whispered, hoarsely, plunging into the wet of her like he'd do it until they both died, "Jesus Christ, Jill, I love you."

She mewled, clutching at him, and she rasped, brokenly, "...you're such a girl."

And he laughed.

He just laughed, dropping his mouth to kiss her. She curled around him, holding on, his mouth shifted and helped itself to her breasts. His hands curved around her little butt to guide her into the rhythm of his body in hers.

She grabbed at him, thighs dropping open, body shaking. "Oh. Jesus."

Yep. That was on her too. He rolled her body, smoothing in and out of her almost lazily, "You ok?"

And she jerked, shaking, "Oh...I'm gonna..."

"Yeah, I feel that." She was so tight. It was insane. It was searing and killing him. He picked up the pace, plunging now. The wet sounds of it filled the room, deliciously.

Jill grabbed his face, slapping him with it. "Oh, shit, oh god...I'm sorry...I'm-" And she went, wet, shaking and bowing. He watched it on her face. She just..went. Crying out, bucking, sucking him in like nothing he'd ever had before.

Amazing.

He pushed her knees back, opened her up while she whined and humped all over him, and plowed her so deep he was pretty sure he was hitting her in the belly somewhere while she hit that orgasm of hers, came all over his slapping groin with it, and kept on going.

His hands shifted, grabbed her face, and anchored her around him as he took her up, watched her come apart, and pumped his need for her into the sucking, spasming, greedy little center of her.

They collapsed onto the bed, shaking, sweaty, gasping.

The rain was a beautiful, soft, relaxing backdrop to their labored breaths.

After a long moment, he realized she was sleeping. He rolled to his side and brought her against his front.

And for the first time in days, he slept like a baby with her beside him.

* * *

He came awake with her curled against his back, stroking her hands over his belly.

Lying still in the quiet dark, he let her pet him. She stroked his hips, his thighs, the fine spill of smooth hair on his groin. She fingered his nipples and traced his biceps almost..shyly?

He let her experiment with his body, knowing she likely thought he was sleeping.

She tentatively slid her hand down and cupped the delicate, smooth, tantalizing fullness of his sack, shaping him in her hand curiously.

Lord.

LORD.

He loved her. It spilled into him painfully. She was so unsure. She was so amazing.

She'd kept him ALIVE. She'd told him to GO and LEAVE HER. Who was this girl?

The most amazing creature he'd ever known. Untouched. Untested. Unbelievable. Kind. Compassionate and funny. Sweet and strong. STRONG. God, she was strong.

Even as Ashley had said goodbye, crying, and hugging her. Jill, teary-eyed but strong, carrying him when he was almost gone. Jill, mourning Redfield when she'd thought he was gone, her best friend in the whole damn world, and getting up to fight on. Jill in his ear, telling him, "I'm here. I will get you there."

Her hand found his shaft, stroking it, feeling the length and girth and spill of it. She played fingers over the head of it, she shifted her other hand to stroke the curve of his ass and spine. She just...wanted to touch him.

What did she say? The first man she'd ever wanted to touch.

She slid his hair to the side at the nape of his neck to kiss him there. She licked a wet line down his spine and over his hip. He let her, shaking to touch her, and lying so still. So utterly still.

She rolled him onto his back on the bed and put her mouth on him, tasting, questing.

She was so delicate about it, so gentle. He watched her hair in the dark, watched her hands smooth the insides of his thighs to stroke him.

His voice startled her as she tried him out, licking and gently sampling him, "I love you, Jill."

And she took him into her mouth. All of him. She swallowed him down with his hands in her hair to knead her scalp and love her. Lord.

He let her get him close, too close, and tugged on her, gently, "Ease back, sweetheart, ease back or I'll go in your mouth."

Oh.

She shivered. She wanted him to. She wanted to see his face while he did.

But she let him go with a slick slide of tongue and a tender press of teeth around his sensitive head instead. He shivered.

Her head came up. She met his eyes in the warm dark. She whispered, "Leon...you're beautiful."

It might have been girly, maybe, if he didn't see the truth of it all over her face. She kissed the smooth length of him and stole his breath, and she added, "I'm insane for you. It's not your body...ok..."And she laughed, sliding up him to lie atop him now, "It's your body. But it's not just your body. You're beautiful. I've never met anyone softer, kinder, stronger...I'm so in love with you. What do I do when this is over?"

He rolled her onto her back and slid over her. His hands stroked her hair back, "Jill...why does it have to be over?"

And her answer killed him, "Because I can't keep you. Look at you. You're gonna figure it out one of these days."

"What's "it"?"

And she whispered, "What all the rumors tell you about me are true. I'm a cold fish. I'm dead inside. And you? You deserve better. You're a Kennedy. You deserve better..."

He studied her, watching her eyes.

He said nothing.

He slid down her body. She parted her legs and watched him. Her heart hurt it was hammering so hard.

She'd pictured his head between her thighs so many times. Never good enough. Her imagination was for shit, clearly, because it was better. BETTER. Then she'd even begun to understand.

His hands shifted, her thighs settled over his shoulders, and his hands slid up her belly to play with her breasts.

She went quick, gasping, thighs clasping his head between her legs. She caught his hair in her hands and gripped, bowing against his eager mouth.

He loved her, he thought almost desperately now, he loved her. She tasted like slick want and surrender and love. Love. He'd done this plenty. He was good at it. He knew how to work her. How to get her to go in his mouth. How to send her spinning.

But it was the first time he watched a woman up the line of her body while she did. It was the first time he cared about the girl beneath him.

The first time he wanted to show her, somehow, what she was to him.

As she came, quaking and melting, he rose up her body and knelt between her thighs. His hand shifted to tug her up to the taste herself on his mouth. She made a small sound of surprise and opened for his tongue.

Her hands shifted, gripping his hips.

And he answered her, finally, gruffly, "There's nothing special about me, Jill. Nothing. The only thing special about me...is you. There's no end here. Just a beginning. Just this. And you. Let me love you, Jill. Love me back. And let me prove I'm good enough to deserve you."

She laughed, shaking, aching. Her hands curled over his ass, "Oh, you tempting thing...a dangerous game. Are you ready to play it?"

"I like fast, dangerous things..." He dipped his mouth again, wetly taking hers, "And I never lose. Could be a rocky ride..."

Lord. She shifted and he slid into her, making her coo a little, "Promise?" A hoarse, raspy, desperate little question.

And one with an easy, wonderful, simple answer, "Oh, yeah, I just have one thing to tell you..." He looped her hands around the headboard and curled her in against his groin, surging slowly into her. But it vibrated and she saw the possession of it all over his face. His hands curled around hers, holding her down.

And Jill whispered, "...what's that?"

He put his mouth against hers, he rolled her to him to ready for her the hammer of his body, and he whispered back, "...hold on, sweetheart."

She took it.

She screamed.

He rode her so hard he was pretty sure he'd break her. She begged, bucking, screaming for more.

And his phone buzzed in his pants on the floor, reminding him he was, essentially, still on duty.

Another mission. Another chance to save the day. Another tale to tell around the table to make him a legend.

The story of his life.

But that story? He thought -as he ignored the phone to love the woman in his arms. As she told the story of her love for him by how she held on and never let go. How she told that story in her voice as she begged and cried and bucked. How she told it in her gasping out his name and screaming I love you so loud he was fairly sure the neighbors in the room over heard it.

The story of the hero on a quest to save the world?

That?

That was a story for another day.

This one? The one where he loved her, and filled her up, and rolled her over to taste her. Where he spent three more days doing nothing but learning how she laughed and kissed and lived. The hero was just a man here with her. In this story? Just a guy in love with a girl. This story had a guy and a girl and a beach.

It was the only one he was interested in telling...until the man with too many words...finally ran out all the ones he wanted to give Jill Valentine.

For him? There were no more women. There was only one. And for a few days before they became heroes again? She was all his.

She was the story of his life.

* * *

 **Post Note:** _Why is it over!? WHHHHHYYYY!? Thank you for coming with me on this AWESOME journey of mine. It's been a ride, a fun one, and I'm so damn sad to see it end. But...it's never the end. Why? I'll keep shipping this unlikely pair all over town, that's why. Find them in...pretty much most of my writing._

 _Keep reading my stuff. Keep loving it. It's why I keep posting it! Until later...a few brief words to live by to honor Leon Kennedy...man who stand on toilet, high on pot._

 _-The Lady Frost_


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